Designed To Fade
by tuatha danaan
Summary: I have travelled a long road, from one world to another and back again. Now I must complete the journey. Auron/Braska, Auron/Rikku. *New update* - chapter 12...
1. Chapter one

Title: This Is My Story (working title)  
  
by: Tuatha Danaan  
  
Summary: I have travelled a long road, from dreams to memories and back again. Now I must complete the journey.  
  
Classification: Auron fic, Angst, some Humour, not romance (not yet, anyway. ;)  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to squaresoft, but this story is mine.   
  
A/N: I started this prologue a while ago, and during a recent brief hiatus with A Secret Journey I wrote some more scenes for this fic. I hope you all like it so far. I'd love feedback and CC, also any good suggestions for a real title would be welcomed. R & R please, or email tuatha@caloundra.net. Thanks. (p.s. A Secret Journey will be continued soon, and this story will undoubtedly become a longer work then.)  
  
Prologue  
  
I am not a fiend.   
  
I am not a monster.  
  
It is my daily mantra and my morning prayer as I run a hand over my face when I wake, checking that I'm still human. I haven't changed into something else as I slept. It is a nightmare that I have frequently, one that I am glad to have awakened from. My face is still recognisable, and the stubble I feel reminds me that I need to shave today. I am going to the blitzball tournament, and it wouldn't do to scare the fans off.  
  
Jecht left me floating in shallow water, in a tiny bay of an island just south of Kilika, and it took me a week to get a boat from there and finally here to Luca. I'd had no idea where the boy was, only hoping that Jecht would deposit him somewhere safely. I decided to head here in the hope that the lure of blitzball would bring him here to me, and I was gratified to see him on the sphere when the players arrived on the boats yesterday.   
  
Later I look into the cracked glass above the sink in the bathroom of the inn and wonder why my mind has seen fit to add the appropriate years, although I haven't celebrated a birthday in the last ten years. It is a ghoulish thought and I smile grimly to myself, a lightening of my reflection as I hold the blade of the razor to my throat.   
  
Strange thoughts often fill my mind. I know that if the razor slipped it wouldn't kill me, but I wonder. Would my mind create a new scar for me to carry around? It's another thought that provides vague amusement, even in death I have to be careful not to slip.  
  
I take everything with me, my sword, my tokkuri. I don't expect to return to the inn. I had of course heard that a new summoner was arriving from the isle of Besaid, Braska's daughter. Everyone was talking about the High Summoners' daughter and how she could be the new hope of Spira. Once I find Tidus we will be seeking out the summoner's party to join their pilgrimage. I made a promise to Braska, one to Jecht and one to myself. This time I won't fail. I will keep those promises I made, for all our sakes.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX 


	2. Chapter two

Part Two  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
"You said it yourself, there's gotta be a way."  
  
"Alright, I will!" My promise flew unbidden from my lips, stunning even me with the import of my words. I had just told a man about to sacrifice himself for all our sakes that I would perform the impossible, fly back a thousand years in time and comfort his son. It was sheer madness and I couldn't imagine what had possessed me to say yes.  
  
It troubled me as Braska and I made our way back from Zanarkand. There was no way to fulfil my promise to him. Later he returned to me, and showed me the way. Afterwards, after Braska had defeated Sin, and died, after I had raced to meet him there in death.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
I check the player lists when I reach the stadium, only to find Tidus's name almost down the bottom, listed as a substitute player for the Besaid Auroch's. After checking the match schedule I head away from the docks, eventually finding myself in the Luca Cafe.   
  
There is an air of excitement among the patrons, everyone is waiting for the first match to start and most of the talk is of players and teams as I find a seat facing the door.  
  
While I wait to be served a bookmaker approaches me asking me if I'm interested in a wager. I am surprised when he tells me that the odds are fifty to one for the Auroch's to place in the top three, and two hundred to one to win outright. It seems that Tidus has signed up with the underdogs. By contrast the Luca team are the favourites.  
  
They seem like good odds to me so I take them, offering twenty gil for the bet and receiving my ticket in return. I have a lot of confidence in Tidus, if he plays they have a fair chance of winning against any team, no matter how good. The boy can swim like a fish, and despite his early setbacks he was capable of exhibiting exceptional brilliancy when faced with a ball, a goal and an opponent. And four thousand gil will no doubt come in useful later.  
  
I drink coffee, it being too early in the day for anything else, waiting until the Auroch's match begins, playing against the Al Bhed team. I leave the bar in the closing stages of the Ronso's game, heading back towards the stadium. Clusters of people move through the streets of Luca, a holiday atmosphere pervading the crowd. There are street jugglers and mimes entertaining passers by, and stalls are set up near the waterfront selling pennants and flags for the teams and players.  
  
I weave my way through the crowds oblivious to the good cheer around me, eventually climbing the stone steps of the stadium to look down at the sphere pool suspended in the centre. It hangs like a glowing blue orb, the hum of machinery binding the field that holds the water within audible now that the last match has ended and the crowd is relatively quiet.  
  
I have my choice of seats. There are very few fans staying for a match between the Al Bhed and the Besaid team. The Al Bhed hadn't been popular in my lifetime and it seemed that little had changed since then. The Auroch's were not expected to win, and no matter how popular the sport not many fans left the island communities to follow their teams to Luca. Sea travel was too dangerous with the ever present threat of Sin.   
  
Where I sit I have a view of the private section of the stadium, reserved seating for the temple officials and maesters. Mika sits enthroned there among the priests of Yevon and I begin to wonder about him. He was old when Braska and I set out on our journey, frail and trembling then, how is it that he has lasted all this time to still be officiating at the head of the Yevon clergy?   
  
I see a tall man bend to speak to him, whispering something in his ear, then appearing to laugh at his own wit. It takes me some time at that distance to realise there is something quite odd about him. Later during the match the screen above my head shifts its camera viewpoint to focus on the Maester's box, and I see that the tall man isn't completely human. I hear someone behind me say 'The new Maester.' and another reply 'Seymour Guado' and thus I learn that there have been some changes in the Yevon order since I left a decade ago.   
  
I am disappointed that Tidus does not appear during the match, and for most of the game I am quite certain I won't see my money again. The Al Bhed play hard, committing foul after foul and only being called out occasionally for them. The score is tied for most of the second half, but the Besaid team rallies, their captain taking the ball and torpedoing towards the Psyche's goal. He leaves his opponents in his wake, kicking at a wide open goal and scoring in the dying seconds of the game.  
  
It is a remarkable upset. I sit through the next match, the semi-final before the deciding match between Luca and Besaid and am eventually rewarded. Just before the final match is about to begin I catch sight of Tidus. The boy is unmistakeable as he swims into the pool, his fair hair weaving like silk around his eyes as he takes the left forward position.   
  
The first half is a draw, neither team making any headway. Tidus attempts a goal but is blocked, and despite the commentators exhortations it is clear this is not going to be a pushover for the Luca Goers. When the second half begins the crowd is tense, edgy with excitement.   
  
Something bothers me, and I scan the crowd. I sense something dangerous, my instincts on alert but I see nothing untoward. A shout goes up from around me and I turn back to the sphere to see the boy's body arching through the water in a graceful curve, his leg shooting forward to the ball that was spinning gently through the water. The impetus of his kick sends it flying through the water in a blur. A loud buzzer sounds as the net behind the Al Bhed keeper snaps backward, sending a shockwave of ripples through the pool. A goal for Besaid.  
  
A tiny section of the crowd screams and cries out its approval while all around me there are quieter exclamations of surprise. I watch as Jecht's fair-haired boy high-fives his teammates as he swims back to his starting position. While I sit there I find myself picturing in my mind's eye how Jecht might have looked if he'd seen this moment. He would have worn a grin a mile wide, his eyes shining with pride at his son's accomplishments as he shouted out his approval. I do not allow myself to display the pride and love I feel, being there in his stead, it is simply enough to know that the feelings are there in my heart.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
I watched him, just as I had promised Jecht. I did not appear often, visiting his mother once and watching him out of the corner of my eye. He lurked in the doorway watching us with darkened eyes as we discussed his father's disappearance and Tidus's future.  
  
"But do you know...what happened to...him?"  
  
She was close to a breakdown, her eyes shadowed, her skin sallow and her features pinched from grief. There was no way to tell her the truth, and it was better to shield her from it. She didn't really want to know. "I'm sorry, I just still hope for word, even after all this time."  
  
"I wish I could bring you better news." I hesitated, then added "I don't believe he is dead. As long as he is missing you still have hope."  
  
She finally looked at me then. "Thank you. You're very kind."   
  
Then she rose abruptly asking me if she could get me a drink. I guessed that when she was in the kitchen she cried about it, trying not to let a stranger see her upset at his words about her missing-presumed-dead husband. The boy had disappeared back to his room at some point while we talked. I hadn't noticed him slip away silently.  
  
When she returned the inevitable questions followed; 'How did I meet Jecht?', 'How long had I known him?' etc, and I ducked them with vague enough answers that it was eventually established that I was some sort of blitz scout/manager and had met up with Jecht while travelling to and from the games. It was just as well, I could never have faked enough skill to pretend to be a player. I told her what I could about him while maintaining the pretence that we'd met in normal circumstances.  
  
"Jecht would talk about you both often. I know that he loved you and missed you...when he was away."  
  
"Really?" She smiled, and I could see that she wouldn't have believed me if I hadn't spoken with such certainty of the truth.   
  
"Once, he asked me...I'm sorry, that's why I came. He said that if something happened to him and he couldn't return he'd worry about his son. He asked me to...and I promised. I didn't think at the time that I would ever be sitting here."  
  
"Oh, I see. Of course."  
  
"Yes. So if there is ever anything you need, either yourself or your son..."  
  
"I...no, we have everything we need..." I don't think she could help the words that followed. "except for him."  
  
Then she began to cry uncontrollably. Whatever reservations she had about me couldn't dam her emotions as they broke over her. I rose and made my way into the back of the house. Tidus was sitting on his bed, a comic book resting on his knee. When he saw me he looked up sullenly. "Your mother needs you." I told him.  
  
He looked surprised at the responsibility I'd just placed on him, then he flicked the book onto the pillow as he preceded me back down the hallway into the main room. I waited until he hugged her with the awkward grace only a young child possesses. Then I went into the kitchen to make tea for her.   
  
It was clear the place was somewhat neglected, so I busied myself cleaning up the dishes in the sink, mostly single plates and bowls, undoubtedly from the boy's meals. I doubted she'd been eating much from the look of her. I examined the contents of the fridge finding only basics like milk, juice, butter and eggs. There were pre-prepared meals in the cupboard, spaghetti and the like, cereals and biscuits. Other than that there was little of substance in the house, certainly nothing that didn't take more than a few minutes to prepare for the boy so she could sink back into her gloom and depression.  
  
I shook my head at the tragedy of it. She was wasting her life away when the rest of us had no choice at all...Jecht would have expected me to do something. I hadn't intended to stay for long but I had little choice. I went to the doorway to find that Tidus was looking up at me with resentful eyes as he clasped his mother in his arms. I motioned to him and waited back in the kitchen until he came in.  
  
I gestured to the tea I'd made. "You should try to get her to drink some of this." At the same time I'd taken a packet of biscuits to place on the tray as well, but I was unfamiliar with the packaging, gripping it in the wrong place and it wouldn't tear. He came over.   
  
"Not those, they're mine." He went to the cupboard and selected a different variety. He stopped then. "If you think she's going to forget about him you can forget it."  
  
"Why would I think that?"  
  
He shrugged. "Guys have been coming around here. Imarru says they..." He blinked up at me with a serious expression. "want to marry her. My dad had a lot of money."  
  
"Who is Imarru?"  
  
"She comes once a week."   
  
"Does she do the shopping?"  
  
He nodded. "Yeah...and the washing and the washing up. Then she cleans."  
  
"I see. And what day will she be here again?"  
  
"Saturday."  
  
He wasn't exactly animated, but at least he was talking to me. It was a start.  
  
"And is there somewhere you can buy more food if it runs out before she gets here again?"  
  
He shook his head, his gaze unconsciously shifting to the direction of the other room. "There's a market, but...I'm not supposed to go out by myself."   
  
"I see." I did, all too clearly. She'd lost her husband, it was only natural she would fear losing her boy as well. But it wasn't good for him to be cooped up here by himself, even if he could go out on the dock for fresh air. "Alright. Once you take that to your mother I will ask you for directions to the market."  
  
It didn't take long to establish my role. When I returned I cooked some of the food I'd bought, making soup and grilling some chops to have with salad. The boy dug into his food with alacrity, and I wondered how long it had been since he'd had anything home cooked from freshly prepared ingredients. He left the table before we were done. She only ate a little, but thanked me for helping.  
  
"Any friend of Jecht's would do whatever they could for you." I thought she might have been embarrassed, at any rate I didn't want to have her dismiss me outright so I added "I would like to visit again. Tidus...Jecht was very proud of him, I can see why."  
  
"When...?"  
  
"Next week, if that would be alright. I'll be back in Zanarkand then."  
  
She nodded, and excused herself, giving me the chance to talk to Tidus before I left them that evening. I went out on the deck to find him there, hugging the mast as he stared out onto the water.  
  
"Tidus, we need to talk about your mother."  
  
"What about her?"  
  
"She needs help."  
  
"I'm here."  
  
"You need help."  
  
"I can look after her." He replied sullenly.  
  
I thought back to what he'd told me about the maid's opinion. "I assure you I have no designs on your mother. I am only here because your father asked me to help you."  
  
"You don't even know him! He'd never ask you to do that!"  
  
I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting, but I'd walked unknowing into a minefield and now had to be careful to extricate myself without causing any further explosions. "The fact remains that he did ask me, and I'm here now. As it is you can't even go to the shop. And your maid is only here once a week."  
  
He didn't reply, didn't even look at me. "I'll be returning next week. Try to take care of her until then."  
  
I left him, and returned as promised. Weeks passed, and the boy began to accept my presence. She also came to rely on me, sinking even deeper into the morass of her depression. After a time it became clear that my efforts were going to be in vain. She grew weaker, her will to live sapping away as she spent most of her time in her room.   
  
She died in the spring of a broken heart, one year after losing Jecht, leaving her son an orphan at the tender age of eight.   
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX 


	3. Chapter three

Part Three  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
  
  
The Luca players have the advantage now, but their desperation to even up the score works against them. Their center player fumbles a long pass to the forward and Besaid now have the ball. The clock ticks downward while Besaid play safe, but then someone in the crowd begins to shout for 'Wakka!' and the cry is taken up and down the stadium, becoming a resounding boom that thunders around the stands. 'Wakka! Wakka! Wakka!'  
  
The players themselves can hear it and look around confused. Then I see Tidus swimming for the exit, leaving the pool. I begin to make my way down the stands, hoping to catch him at the players entrance. Before I reach the stairs that lead below the stand I hear a swell in the voices around me and look up to see the red-haired man now swimming into the pool.  
  
I find a place where I can observe the player tunnel and the spherepool and watch the last few minutes of the game. The Aurochs still have possession of the ball and pass several times before sending the ball to Wakka. The crowd around me cheers once more as he takes the ball and swims forward. With less than thirty seconds on the clock he evades one tackle and is hit hard by another. He barely keeps hold of the ball but it is enough.   
  
His technique is nowhere near as showy as Tidus's, just powerful and workmanlike. The Luca keeper gamely tries to block, but despite getting his fingertips to the ball it flies into the net. There are only five seconds left on the clock, but the result is now a foregone conclusion. I can hear the excited jabbering of the commentators, and a few isolated jeers here and there from the crowd, but for the most part there is simply amazement.  
  
Tidus has not showed himself, but as soon as the buzzer sounds I see him again entering the pool and swimming over to the Besaid captain. Then it starts. There is a scream below me and I am glad I had the foresight to come armed. I begin to stride down the stairs, and as I do I hear people around me crying out in shock and pointing. 'Fiends! In the pool!'  
  
There are indeed. There are also fiends appearing throughout the stadium and the crowd erupts in panic. I continue until I come to a scaled beast that blocks the path. It roars when I take up my stance ready to do battle, and a spume of smoke and flame comes from its mouth.  
  
I brace myself, eyeing it with interest, almost excitement, as the familiar feeling of adrenaline races through my veins. It has been a long time since I battled any fiends on Spira. I bare my teeth and run forward, my sword held in a two handed grip. I bring it down in a slashing arc that cuts the air from right to left, curving almost horizontally before it hits the ground. It also slashes everything in the blade's path, and the beast is mortally wounded. It collapses into a swirling mass of pyreflies that slowly dissipate.  
  
I continue on toward the player area when I hear a familiar voice behind me. "Auron!"   
  
"Sir Auron!" The second voice is not familiar. I glance backwards to see the blitzball captain with Tidus. Tidus turns to him.   
  
"So you do know him?"  
  
"Yeah. Best guardian there ever was."  
  
It is high praise, undoubtedly too high, but there is no time now to correct him. Another fiend approaches and both younger men come to my aid as we fight. The citizens continue to scream and run as they try to evade the fiends around us. The stadium was filled to overflowing, it was after all the final match in the tournament, and despite the crush near the exits as people pour out of the building too many are still trapped within.   
  
Even as I run forward and slash high in the air, only managing a glancing blow to the flying creature's wing, I am thinking. There is no possible way that these fiends got here by accident. Someone has loosed them on the unarmed and defenceless citizens of Luca for some undiscernable purpose. We defeat the fiend when Wakka aims a blow with his ball at it, it flutters in the air allowing Tidus to run forward and slash at it with his blade.  
  
More fiends come. I am aware of the crowd that surges up and away as we face off against the threat. Despite our efforts there are still far too many fiends, and I realise that this is going to be a bloodbath if something isn't done soon. Tidus yells in disgust, and then the stadium shudders beneath our feet.  
  
The strange man I'd seen earlier in the Maester's presence was summoning an aeon. Once called it unleashed a barrage of laser like attacks on the fiends around us, they exploded instantly leaving only a shadow as pyreflies danced in the air. One after another the fiends were erased from existence. The threat over for now I straightened.   
  
The people around us look around in confusion, only to find that imminent death has been averted. A whisper begins to take shape and I hear people speaking the name 'Seymour Guado' in wonder and amazement. I am not so gullible, but say nothing of my suspicions, not even to Tidus.   
  
Tidus regards me somewhat impatiently. "What the hell happened to you? We've been looking all over Luca for you."  
  
"We?" I ask him.  
  
He waves his arm in an expansive gesture to include his companion. "Well, Yuna really."  
  
"I see." I tell him.   
  
"Listen man, I've gotta go, get back to the team. They'll be presenting the cup, ya?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. Right Wakka." He sounded distracted, seeming either unable or unwilling to tear his eyes from me.  
  
"You should come too, you know."  
  
"Thanks, Wakka, but I think I want to talk to Auron for a bit. I'll catch up with you guys later."  
  
"Alright, I'll see you back at the hotel. Don't be late, we're gonna have a celebration, I tell ya!"  
  
He turned on his heel and left us. I do not wait for Tidus to order the questions that I'm sure are filling his mind at the moment, I turn and make my way toward the exit.  
  
"Come! There's a lot to get done before the day ends."  
  
"What?" He breaks into a jog to catch up to me. "Auron, what is going on here?"  
  
I stop abruptly and turn to face him. "You played well today. Scoring when you did demoralised the other team completely. Now I have to collect my winnings from the book-maker at the Luca Cafe, since I bet on you to win. After that we will need to purchase several items in preparation for our journey."  
  
"Journey?"   
  
"We are not staying in Luca." We have made our way out of the stadium onto the dockside. I am expecting it so it does not come as a surprise when he digs his heels in.  
  
"Wait a minute! That doesn't explain anything!"  
  
I wait. Silently.  
  
"Hey you! Don't just stand there! All of this is your fault!" He complains. "Gettin' swallowed by Sin! Ending up here in Spira! Not being able to go back to Zanarkand--everything, everything! I'm telling you, it's all your fault."   
  
He is right to blame me. I find myself laughing sardonically, although the situation is far from light. His questions continue and I decide that he must know at least part of the truth. I tell him about my pilgrimage with Braska, and Jecht, and how afterwards I went to Zanarkand to watch over him, so that eventually I could bring him here, to Spira. For Jecht's sake.  
  
I tell him about Jecht, and Sin. His first impulse is to refuse to believe, but I can see the truth sinking into him as he remembers the pull of that consciousness as we were drawn into Spira.  
  
His questions continue, but my patience is exhausted with the weight of the truths I have already told him, I tell him that he will see for himself soon enough.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
The first time I saw Jecht I knew he was trouble. It wasn't hard to tell. He was lying in a dingy cell in the temple barracks, after being arrested for drunkenness at one of the taverns down by the docks. The man was worse for wear, bruised and hungover with his hair hanging over his face, but instead of looking contrite or embarrassed he had the air of a caged tiger, a wild beast that did not belong behind bars.   
  
He did not belong there. Not in that cell, not with Braska and I on our pilgrimage, not even in Spira. And yet when Braska explained his quest and his desire for Jecht to join us the man did not hesitate. Of course I did not agree. My protests were dismissed, gently as always, but Braska was adamant. Jecht would journey with us to Zanarkand.   
  
I was no fool, I knew that two guardians were better than one any day, but Jecht was no guardian. I thought him an ignorant and unruly ruffian, and possibly an insane one at first. Unpredictable, untrained and unfit for the duties of guarding a summoner on pilgrimage, I thought to find my own duties doubled. Not only would I have to protect Braska but I would have to watch Jecht too, to keep him out of trouble and keep him from causing trouble as well. As it turned out I failed in the latter on several notable occasions, but after a time Jecht began to change. I believe this was due in great part to Braska's influence although it was partly due to him being isolated from his home and family.   
  
When we left the temple locks with Jecht in tow that first day I was angry, not at Braska, or at least I tried not to be, but at myself for not averting this folly of his. Braska had a tendency to trust everyone he met, and although most people loved him for it I was aware that there were some people in the world one could never give one's trust to and come out of it unscathed. It was my role to protect him, and I didn't trust the dishevelled man that wandered after us, rubbing his bare chest as he observed us shrewdly.  
  
"We need to get you some accoutrements for the journey, Sir Jecht. Do you use a sword?" Braska asked the man and I turned and scowled as I waited for his answer.  
  
"A sword? I usually just use my fists." He drawled, and he raised them mockingly in demonstration. "Never met a bar fight I couldn't gain admission to yet, not with these two knockin' on the door to be let in."  
  
Braska laughed with genuine amusement while I looked back at him in disbelief. That he thought this belligerant sot was worthy of his company amazed me. "Well, I'm afraid they may not do well enough for our purposes. We'll go to the forge on the East Bank, it's not too far. Are you hungry?"  
  
"They gave me some chow back there, but to tell you the truth I couldn't stomach the look of it, let alone the taste." He patted his non-existent pockets. "But I think I kinda left my wallet at home..."  
  
Braska gave him a sympathetic look. "Back in Zanarkand?"  
  
"Yeah, that's right." I was almost going to remonstrate with the man, but Braska's arm moved sharply to silence me. "How come you believe me, anyway? No one else has, not since I woke up in this God-forsaken town." He scratched his chest. "That's how I got into that fight. Some dipstick started telling me Zanarkand has been dead for a thousand years and called me a damn liar. I had to set him straight."  
  
Braska turned to him. "Actually, Jecht...he was right." I was ready to step forward between him and my summoner when Jecht's face darkened, but Braska took the man gently by the shoulders in a gesture that was almost comforting. "I want to help you, but I can't lie to you either. Although I've never seen Zanarkand for myself, so who knows what we'll find when we get there."  
  
"Gone? A thousand years? C'mon, that doesn't make any sense. Wait a damn minute, what the hell year is it?" He demanded.  
  
"It's 1016 A.Y."  
  
Jecht sounded incredulous. "ten-sixteen-ay what?"  
  
"One thousand and sixteen years since Lady Yunalesca's calm."  
  
"What the hell is that, that isn't even a real date. It was 2025 when I..." His face paled.  
  
"What?" Braska was instant concern.  
  
"I think...I need to sit down." He staggered over to a low brick wall with Braska supporting him by the elbow, then he leaned down and cupped his hands over his mouth, breathing into them in an effort to stifle his panic. Even I was starting to feel concerned by his response. Then he clutched his hair. "All this time I've been thinking my wife's gotta be at home going frantic 'coz I should have been home two days ago. This has got to be some kind of insane mistake. Either that or those guys back there are right and I really am crazy."   
  
"I don't believe that, and I'm sure you don't either."  
  
Jecht shook his head miserably. "The only thing I'm sure of is I think I need a drink."  
  
Braska looked doubtful, no doubt sympathising with the man. "Well, food might do us all more good, but first, the weapon maker."   
  
We continued then but Jecht paused in the middle of the street, and for a moment I saw a man who looked like a lost little boy in his eyes, wondering which way led home. "You're going to try and help me, right?"  
  
Braska nodded. "We'll do everything we can."  
  
He spoke for me as well as for himself. Despite my misgivings as his guardian I was as bound to his word as he was.  
  
"Okay." He resumed his steps following us. "Then I guess I'm gonna get a sword today."  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
He is, understandably, upset. Hard to believe, that the father you once knew is now the evil unleashed on an entire world. I let him rant, his emotions strangely soothing to me. He would often throw such tantrums when he was younger, when he didn't get his way. I'd thought he'd outgrown them.   
  
But this is so far out of his expectations that I can't help but feel some sympathy. His world, everything he knew is lost, and now he is in this strange other world, forced to rely on others when he'd finally outgrown Jecht's shadow and learned to stand on his own two feet. I feel much the same at times.   
  
When he is out of breath and out of words he slumps over and I wonder if he is crying. He used to do that too, after his tantrums. I walk over and rest my hand on his back, hoping to reassure him.   
  
"It will be alright." I tell him. I only hope that it is true.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX 


	4. Chapter four

Part four  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
  
  
Jecht stared entranced at the wall of swords on display. I had already noted the best sword there for him, with a relatively short but broad blade it tapered into a wicked point that would suit a man of his build and agility, but as I reached for it Jecht pounced on another.   
  
I was not surprised that his eye was drawn to it, it was a katana that was at least a half foot too long and three pounds to heavy for him, but he grasped it and held it in both hands, as though he had any idea what to do with it. Braska looked at me and instantly deduced from my expression that it was unsuitable. "Jecht, perhaps you should let..."  
  
"I like it!" He proclaimed, so I stepped forward placing my hand on his shoulder. I pressed with my thumb just above the protruding joint and he dropped the katana as if it was a red hot poker.   
  
"FfffffffUuuuuurrrrhhhheaven'ssake! What the hell did you do that for!" He cried as he cupped the injury in his other hand.  
  
"It was too heavy for you. You can't afford to drop your sword in battle if a fiend taps you on the shoulder." I was about to reach for the other sword, but stopped and turned to Braska. He understood immediately.  
  
"Let Auron help you decide. You can trust his advice."  
  
"Trust him? He nearly crippled me!"  
  
"You'll take no lasting harm from what I did. And you can't afford to drop your sword in battle if a fiend taps you on the shoulder." Then I handed him the sword I'd had in mind from the beginning. "Here, try this."  
  
I could see he was less than impressed by its looks. It was a serviceable weapon and looked it, plain and unadorned. There were no fancy inlays on the blade and the hilt was bound with braided leather. But he could at least hold it comfortably without putting undue strain on his back and shoulders.   
  
The weapon master came over to us and eyed Jecht with an experienced gaze. "A novice swordsman?"   
  
I nodded. "We'd like to practice first, but I think that one will do."  
  
"Yes, a good choice for a beginner. If you decide to take it that one's 1350 gil with scabbard, and since it's a first sword I'll throw in a sharpening stone for free."   
  
"That's fine, but we'll see how he does first. C'mon Jecht."  
  
We went out the back to one of the practice arenas where I attempted to give Jecht his first lesson in swordsmanship. Braska and the Weaponmaster looked on with amusement. They could have sold tickets for the show, I'm sure it was very entertaining to watch.  
  
Jecht seemed to think we were going to commence by having a duel, he couldn't seem to grasp that he needed to learn what to do before he could do it. When I asked him to stand next to me and follow my movements, he grew fractious and bored, impatient even when I corrected his grip on the hilt.  
  
"This is ridiculous. Waving a sword around in the air like a lunatic."  
  
I was almost out of patience with him. "What would you suggest?"  
  
"Let me hit something with it."  
  
"Like what, for instance?"  
  
He shrugged, hesitating to name anyone, although I knew what he wanted to say.   
  
"Fine then." I hefted my sword onto my shoulder and strode forward turning to face him. "Whenever you're ready."  
  
"Right." For the first time he sounded uncertain. Then he raised his sword and lunged forward. I of course deflected his blade with ease then withdrew, letting him recover his balance. After several more tries he began to tire, realising that he was no match for me. I did not taunt him, which he perhaps expected, since he looked surprised when I put down my sword.   
  
"I think that's enough for now. Lord Braska?"  
  
He nodded. "That's good, Jecht. Do you like it?"  
  
The man from Zanarkand looked down at the sword in his hand. "Yeah, it's okay. I'll feel better when I get to hit something with it though. You know."   
  
And he gave me a feral grin. I had no illusions about what he wanted to hit. It did not trouble me, I could take care of myself. As long as he did not try to hurt Braska I couldn't care less what he thought of me.  
  
"Let's go get something to eat." Braska slapped him goodnaturedly on the shoulder and we went back inside to collect the scabbard and stone, and pay for his new sword.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
I watch the boy as he limbers up, slashing at the air from side to side, his sword flashing like quicksilver in the sunlight. Then he grins as I step forward, the feral light in his eyes reminding me of his father. "You'd better watch your back, old man."  
  
"Hmph." I tell him, and I brace myself in a defensive stance, lifting my sword and balancing it on my shoulder. Then I allow my focus to narrow, as I watch the point of his weapon as it dances in his hand. It seems as though I see nothing but that point, and yet the process allows all my senses to open to the world, I am aware of everything around me, a crackle as a twig is broken beneath his feet, the rustling leaves of the trees above us, the shifting of the light as the sunlight is filtered down to us.   
  
When he leaps towards me my sword moves almost before he does, blocking his attempt to strike. His sword twists awkwardly as he takes several steps sideways. "Damn, I wish I knew how you do that."  
  
I straighten up, oddly pleased that he is looking at me with something like pride in his eyes. "I don't even know why I bother sheathing it, it's not as if I could actually hit you." He complains, reminding me again of his father.  
  
"How *do* you do that, anyway?" He asks, as we continue on our way. I don't bother to answer. It is not a skill that I can teach him without many hours of meditation. I'd asked him if his sword skills had improved, leading to our pausing on the path as he displayed them for me. His new weapon suits him well, a gift from the blitz player who brought him here to Luca with him.  
  
Tidus goes on to tell me that he is the same blitz player who will now be travelling with Yuna, having just retired officially as captain of the Besaid Aurochs. He is only one of her guardians. It is rare for any guardian to have more than two, but Tidus informs me that as well as a silent Ronso warrior named Kimahri, Yuna also had a woman accompanying her, Lulu, whom Yuna had grown up with in Besaid.   
  
I find myself looking forward to meeting her, the daughter of Braska. And I hope she will be willing to accept one more guardian on her journey.  
  
XxxxxxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxxxxxX  
  
A spray of seawater flew over the railing, falling in heavy droplets on my face and coat as I made my way towards the bow of the ferry. Braska was inside, talking to the various travellers who were making their way to Kilika. As a newly ordained Summoner he was the object of much attention, almost everyone wanted to speak to him, to wish him success on his pilgrimage, or ask for his blessing.   
  
There were so many people who wanted to be able to one day say 'I met the High Summoner on his pilgrimage, before he brought the calm', to touch his hand as though he was a sacred relic. To tell the truth it made me angry. They all knew he would die, but none of them ever asked him not to go on.   
  
When I realised Jecht had disappeared it gave me an excuse to leave Braska to look for him, which was why I was now on deck, despite the deep ocean swells that crashed against the side of the boat. When I passed the cabins Jecht was still not in sight so I made my way onto the upper deck. I found him there, sitting crosslegged with his back to the mast, a sphere in his hands.   
  
I thought about turning and going back now that I knew where he was but he saw me and grinned. "Hey, Auron, smile for the kid, okay?" And he turned the sphere recorder in my direction.  
  
Instead I shook my head. "I just came to see that you were alright."   
  
"Checking up on me?"   
  
I shrugged, bracing my feet as the deck rolled beneath me. Jecht was oblivious, his body swaying in response as though he'd been born to the sea. For all I knew he had. I turned once more and grasped the rail of the steps leading below.  
  
"Don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out." He admonished me, obviously aware of my continuing antipathy towards him. My anger flared at his words, no doubt displaced from the well meaning folk downstairs and I turned and walked toward him.   
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
He looked up to answer and stood. "I mean you're acting like a jerk, that's what! I'm not going to run off with your precious sword, and I'll pay Braska what I owe him as soon as I can. You can drop the holier than thou attitude, I know you're just pissed 'coz Braska asked me along on your precious pilgrimage."  
  
My eyes narrowed. "You're not fit to be a guardian to him."  
  
"That's what *you* say, but Braska thinks differently." He responded. The boat yawed beneath our feet but neither of us noticed, too intent on our argument to pay attention. "You're jealous. You thought you were the only one that he needed and you can't stand that he asked me."  
  
I was ready to wrestle him to the deck and beat the crap out of him, but the ship's bell rang out once, sharply cut off as something hit the boat with a shuddering groan, a massive dark shadow in the water that drew the boat down into the trough of its wake.   
  
The deck disappeared from beneath my feet and I was sent flying toward the railing, which now protruded improbably at a horizontal angle from the deck, with a wall of water gaping far beneath me. Jecht had been standing nearer to the mast and had grabbed it when Sin first hit, and he reached out to grasp my coat stopping my fall. I dangled helplessly in his grip as time seemed to yawn widely, then the boat hit the bottom of the trough. Jecht's grip on me was broken as we both hit the deck hard and the water beneath the boat seemed to shatter, sending a sheet of water up over our heads which rained down on us as we lay there, leaving Jecht and I soaked to the skin.   
  
I hugged the wood on which I lay gratefully, then looked at him. He could have done nothing, watching as I'd been swept away, but instead his instincts had saved me. I had to revise my opinion of him based on his actions. He raised himself onto all fours and looked around at the ocean in disbelief.   
  
"What the hell *was* that thing?"  
  
"Sin."  
  
"That's Sin? No wonder you guys are obsessed with beating it, then." He whistled long and low. There were shouts from below as the crew ran along the deck, checking the boat's hull for damage. Jecht cast about him and then swore. "Damn it, I lost the sphere!"   
  
When we returned below, Braska saw me and his face relaxed in relief. "Auron!"   
  
He came forward, hugging me tightly despite the fact that I was soaking wet. "Thank Yevon you're alright!"  
  
He held me close for a long moment then drew back and addressed Jecht. "Sir Jecht! You weren't hurt?"   
  
"Nah, just a bruise or two where I hit the deck. Auron's probably got a few bruises too. We were up top, admiring the view when it hit."  
  
Braska's eyes widened when he heard where we'd been. "You saw it from up there? Sin?"  
  
"Yeah, even got a good picture of it, but I lost the damn sphere. It fell overboard." He grinned then gave me a look that dared me to contradict him. He could have told Braska that he'd dropped the sphere to save me from certain death, but instead he'd pretended nothing had happened between us.   
  
"Well, I'm glad that you're both safe."  
  
A crewman came past, telling us that Sin had disappeared back into the depths of the ocean, and the boat was not taking on more water than the pumps could handle, so we limped onward to Kilika.   
  
XxxxxxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxxxxxX 


	5. Chapter five

Part 5  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
"You refuse?" It hadn't occurred to me that she might reject my offer of guardianship, but if she did it would throw all my plans into disarray. I find myself relieved when she bows hastily in my direction, negating my words.   
  
"No! No, we accept. Right, everyone?"  
  
She looks around at their little party and my eye tracks hers, following her gaze. I first take stock of a tall man of muscular build who stood with a blitzball under his arm. It was the man I'd seen score the day before in the Auroch's first match. This was the ex-captain of the team, Wakka. A woman who looked a little older than Yuna stood beside him, a moogle doll in her arms. She had dark hair and eyes, a painted mouth and wore a severe expression. This was obviously the 'Lulu' Tidus had told me about earlier.   
  
Kimahri stood at attention behind Yuna and my eye met his. His gaze acknowledged mine, holding silent approval at my return. I am quite sure he guesses my secret, but I am also absolutely certain that it will never pass his lips, not even on his dying day. It pleases me that he is here with her still, guarding her during my long absence from Spira.   
  
Now there was one more hurdle to jump. I reach behind me and grabbed Jecht's boy by his shirt, propelling him forward. "He comes too. This one I promised Jecht."   
  
Tidus stumbles and then recovers, scratching his head and shrugging apologetically at the others. "Uhhh...hiya?"   
  
XxxxxxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxxxxxX  
  
We disembarked at Kilika Port and then stood around waiting on the pier. Braska wanted to find out how much delay there would be, if any, as a result of the damage caused by Sin's aborted attack.  
  
The dock was bustling with activity; crewmen shouted warnings and instructions as goods were lowered over the side of the boat, merchants collected their goods, and passengers like ourselves, or those who wanted to catch the next boat to Luca stood around waiting for information. We were planning on going on to Besaid before returning here, but it was as well to know now if we'd need to change our schedule. Jecht wandered off towards the town with a backward wave of his arm. "I think I'm gonna take a look around."   
  
I was about to go after him and haul him back by the scruff of his neck but Braska placed a hand on my arm. "Let him go, Auron. I'm sure he'll be alright, Kilika is too small for him to get lost."  
  
As it turned out I should not have listened to him, but by the time I turned around again Jecht was no longer in sight, and I was reluctant to leave Braska here alone. Eventually the crewmen who were diving around the side of the ship must have reported the damage, and a sign was posted up. The ship would be hauled into dry dock to repair the damage, and would be out of the water for at least two weeks. The Besaid ferry would be pressed into service, taking the Luca run after its next scheduled trip to Besaid. Those passengers who had thought to go to Luca on the next day were now stranded in Kilika for the present.   
  
Things then took a decided turn for the worse for us. We were unable to get even a single room at either of the inns, and then we couldn't find Jecht. We could have trekked up to the temple and sought lodging there, as if we'd left straight away we would have made it there by dusk, but the hours passed with no sign of our missing companion.   
  
We'd been up and down every dock at least twice, and the sun was seeking the horizon, its reflection shimmering golden across the sea as Braska paused and sat wearily on a bench. I walked over to him but didn't sit, inside silently fuming at Jecht's behaviour and how it had inconvenienced us. Braska blinked up at me in the late afternoon glare, his mobile mouth twisting with rueful humour.   
  
He reached up and pulled on my arm. "Sit with me, Auron. Maybe if we just wait he'll turn up eventually."  
  
"Like a bad penny..." I muttered, but I complied with his request, taking up the other side of the bench and leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. Braska patted me on the back.  
  
"I am sorry. I should have realised...and your instincts were right, as usual."  
  
"My lord..." I began but he interrupted me.  
  
"But please try not to be too hard on him...for my sake. He doesn't understand yet, what it means to be a guardian."   
  
"When will you tell him? What it means?" I asked him, as his continued silence had been weighing on my mind. Every time Jecht had assumed that Braska would survive the end of our pilgrimage I looked to Braska to speak but he had remained silent.   
  
"I don't know. Soon." He frowned. "I just...don't know how to say the words."   
  
I wondered if I should say something, and was not surprised when Braska read my mind. "It is my responsibility...I will find a way soon, to tell him, Yevon willing."   
  
I listened but made no sign. Braska sighed and continued. "I know you doubt him, but I just know he...somehow, he matters. It's as if Yevon himself spoke to me and told me he would be my guardian too. Please don't be angry."  
  
"Why would I be?" I said, but I knew it was at least partly a lie and I was ashamed of myself for it. I let my head fall forward.   
  
"I really haven't had a chance to say this, to tell you...yet, how much it means...to me. To have you with me, as my guardian, is such a blessing to me..." I do not want to hear his words, they strike my heart like arrows, wounding me with reminders of what will happen, the future I cannot avert. I stand abruptly.   
  
"It is unnecessary." I tell him. I think he knows how I feel but I cannot look at him, into his expressive eyes to see if the sympathy I feel from him is real or imagined. I allowed my mind to return to our predicament. "I think we should return to the hotel for the evening meal. It will be crowded later, and we don't want to find ourselves without food on top of everything else."  
  
He nodded and rose with me, saying nothing further, although I knew he was thinking about it. Later, after we ate, we stayed in the bar of the hotel. I suggested going out and looking for him again, but Braska demurred, saying his feet hurt after our earlier wanderings around the town. A ruckus in one of the rooms broke out and I looked up, ready to draw my sword and stand between Braska and any danger that emerged, but the sounds erupted into laughter and a shout of triumph.   
  
"I won, fair and square, and don't try to say otherwise!" I recognised the voice, although it was slightly slurred as he shouted, then he emerged from the hallway, weaving his way to the bar and slamming a collection of coins onto the counter. He peered at them, trying to make out their values, and then he looked up and saw me. He grinned, taking up his money and staggered in our direction.  
  
"There're you guys! I've been lookin' all over..." As he reached us he stumbled forward and almost landed in Braska's lap. His arms leaned heavily against Braska's shoulders as he tried to prevent himself from falling any further. "...Fer ya two."   
  
He pushed himself upright and collapsed into a chair. He was dead drunk, his eyes glazed over and barely open. He then ignored us completely, staring around him without seeming to take anything in at all. I gave Braska a look of dismay and disgust. Jecht finally reached over and slapped his fist down on the table. A collection of gil hit the table as coins fell and rolled from his hand.   
  
"There'sh your gil back, shentlemen. Won it'll." He giggled, then he let his head fall onto his arm.  
  
"Wonderful." I said, as my rough estimation of his collected winnings came up with barely enough to pay for our meal, let alone the sword and the gil he'd borrowed from Braska. Braska was laughing quietly though as he scooped up the money, seeing the humour in the situation, although I could see very little that wasn't irksome.   
  
"We'd better go." Braska told me, and I looked around to see some rough looking individuals enter the room from the same direction Jecht had first appeared. They were looking around the bar and I had no doubt they were seeking our companion, perhaps to try to win back the money they'd lost to him.   
  
I stood and roused Jecht enough to get him half out of his seat, then practically carried him under my arm, as we made our way swiftly towards the exit. We emerged into the night air which woke him and he staggered away from me.  
  
"Where're we goin' now?"   
  
"Not far." Braska told him kindly. Jecht staggered back in his direction and Braska took him by the forearm to steady him.   
  
"'nother bar?" He asked, peering hopefully out from under the hair that covered his eyes. I let a groan of disgust escape me. The man was incorrigible.   
  
"You can rest soon." was Braska's reply.  
  
We made our way to the outskirts of Kilika but did not venture into the forest, instead turning to the side and making our way down to the beach. Jecht fell into the sand as soon as Braska let go of his arm. He curled up and was soon snoring as the work of setting up our camp in the dark fell to Braska and I. I realised he was going to be useless to keep watch too, so I resigned myself to a sleepless night.   
  
We built a campfire in short order, bringing wood from the edge of the forest down onto the dunes. Then when Braska suggested splitting the watch I replied shortly to him, telling him to rest. I knew he might have to spend many hours in the temple praying to the fayth tomorrow, he didn't need to have suffered a sleepless night befor hand and I told him so. He was quiet then, and lay down in the sand nearby.  
  
I listened until his breathing softened into the regular pattern of sleep and found myself regretting my sharp tone with him. I'd just felt that with one guardian letting him down so badly I had to do everything I could to take up whatever slack was left. I hadn't meant to take my anger out on him though.   
  
From time to time Jecht stirred, groaning in his sleep. He raised his head once, looking around at the beach and the fire before sinking back into unconsciousness. I am not usually uncharitable to others but I hoped he was feeling the effects of his inebriation.   
  
The night passed slowly, unpleasantly. Each time I felt encroaching sleep I rose and tended the fire, or walked around for a few moments to keep myself awake. Just before dawn, when I was most in danger of falling asleep, I made my way to the sea waiting till a wave came close enough for me to scoop some water up and run it over my face.   
  
Jecht sat straight up and looked around at me. I stared back at him impassively, then he hiccuped. "Argghhh!"  
  
He groaned theatrically, but I'd had enough of his theatrics. I rose and stood over him. "Be quiet! Do you think to wake your summoner on top of everything else?" I kept my voice low despite my rising anger.   
  
He put his hands over his face. Then lifted one to wave it at me. "Alright, already. Don't get your knickers in a twist."   
  
I have to confess I really hated him then. He was a smartass of the highest order, never accepting criticism or correction with any kind of seriousness. He rose and went down to the sea, wading out until the water was deep enough to dive beneath a wave. I returned to my place and eventually Braska stirred, twisting in the sand and stretching. He smiled when he saw me.   
  
"Auron! Good morning."  
  
"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" I asked him, as I went to our pack and poured some water into the pot and placed it on the fire.   
  
"Like a baby." He replied. "Has Jecht...I see he's already up."  
  
I waved at the ocean, indicating where he'd gone. He stood and gazed at the ocean, deep sparkling blue in the early morning light. "A swim before breakfast sounds like a fine idea."  
  
I sighed. I was tired and my eyes felt gritty as though they were full of sand. I didn't feel like bathing in the sea, but it would probably help since we now had to trek through the forest of Kilika and then make our way up the great stone steps to the temple.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
I spread my coat out on the sand and lay down on it. I no longer felt tired, just numb and cold from the water. Once I was tolerably dry I dressed myself with fumbling fingers.   
  
Jecht had emerged from the waves earlier and waded back into shore further up the beach, shaking himself like a dog before wandering up the sandy slope and disappearing into the fringe of the forest. I watched him go, wondering if he would disappear on us again, but eventually he emerged from the shadows and gave me a half-hearted wave as he headed for the fire.   
  
"Don't worry about him." Braska told me, also struggling with his robes which twisted around him as he dressed, but eventually we were both fitly attired and followed Jecht. Braska refused to let me help with breakfast, telling me to sit down and wait.   
  
He poured tea into the pot which had been boiling for some time, then levered it carefully out of the fire. He then brought a mug and placed it by my feet, kneeling before me as he lifted and poured the water into it, his hand shaking slightly with the strain. Then he passed the cup to me and I took it carefully from his hands.   
  
"You two are so cute together...I can just about hear wedding bells." Jecht drawled. I looked over to see him lying back in the sand with his arms crossed behind his head. His eyes met mine and seemed to mock me.   
  
My palm literally itched for the hilt of my sword. I was aware of the implication he was making but Braska sat back on his heels and regarded Jecht with an expression of innocent inquiry. His mind was as pure and simple as a child's and he saw only the surface meaning of Jecht's words, completely unaware of the darker undertone of perversion that was being suggested. I knew, and I wanted to take the fool's head off his shoulders with one swipe of my sword and be done with him for good.  
  
Braska looked back at me and I schooled my features into a more normal expression. His eyes crinkled up with amusement. Then he laughed, loudly and sincerely. "That's a good one, Jecht."  
  
He rose, and took up the pot of water and went over to the scoundrel, and performed the same ritual, kneeling and pouring tea for him as well. Jecht's eyes met mine over Braska's head without even a hint of an apology. "I mean, you guys obviously love each other."  
  
Braska sat back and regarded him. "Seriously? You have no idea."  
  
I winced, and then scowled although I remained silent. Braska returned to the fire, preparing his own tea, and then he sat opposite Jecht.  
  
"It would be impossible to explain how much it means to me, not just as a summoner, but as a person, to know that Auron is with me. I know that he will always be there, by my side..."  
  
Jecht regarded him curiously as he professed his feelings about me, and I was embarrassed and mortified because I'd prevented him from speaking these words yesterday, so he was now telling Jecht what he'd meant to say to me all along.   
  
"I know that I can trust him, and rely on him, and that he will always be there to protect me. So yes, I love him very much..." I looked up to see him smiling gently at me, hopefully. "More than anything in the world."  
  
I looked across to see Jecht looking faintly amused by the conversation, but he looked away, casually into the fire when he realised my gaze was on him. I looked back to Braska sending him a silent appeal with my eyes that he seemed to understand. The matter was dropped while we had breakfast, but later after we packed and were ready to make our way to the temple Jecht walked past me while Braska was otherwise engaged.   
  
"I guess I did you both a favour then, back on the boat." is all he said before he casually sauntered after Braska. I took off after him.   
  
"What is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Nothing, nothing. Just that since Braska values you so highly, I guess it's lucky for him I saved your ass."  
  
I gritted my teeth. "You can tell him whenever you like to claim credit for your good deed."   
  
"No, that's okay. If it makes Braska happy having you around that's reward enough for me." Then he sprinted away from him up the path. "Hey, summoner man, wait up!"  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
SECTION 12  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX 


	6. Chapter six

XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
I moved away from the others, leaning against the wall where I could observe them. Yuna had led Tidus off and they were leaning over the balcony that overlooked Luca. Already a connection had formed between the two. I'd seen it happen once before, between Braska and Jecht, so it was no surprise that their children seemed to share the same strange yet natural affinity for each other.   
  
Tidus began to laugh, a forced sound that contained little humour. Yuna was watching him with a startled look in her eyes. Wakka scratched the back of his head. "Sin's toxin, ya think?"  
  
The woman, Lulu, gave him a scathing glance that made him shrug and close his mouth.   
  
"Ha ha haha, ha ha ha ha haha!"  
  
I turned a sharply assessing stare at Braska's daughter, who was now echoing Tidus's strange laugh. Then both of them turned in synchrony, facing away from us and began again.  
  
"Ha ha ha haha ha ha ha ha!"  
  
After that they both dissolved into natural giggles before they began to talk quietly to each other. Even Lulu wore a look of consternation at their behaviour, but I shrugged mentally. It didn't really matter, even if they were both raving lunatics, as long as...I put the thought on hold. I knew what needed to be done, so dwelling on it was a wasted effort. The rest of the group around me seemed to content to bide their time, waiting for our summoner to be ready to resume her pilgrimage. I waited too, it was something a guardian quickly became used to.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
The hymn became a gentle buzzing in my ears as my head fell forward, then I snapped awake once more. I shifted a little, stiff from crouching against the wall of the temple. Braska was within the chamber of the fayth and Jecht and I waited outside.  
  
"So how long is this going to take again?"  
  
"It will take as long as it takes." I told him, again.  
  
"Can't you even guess? I mean, is it going to be all night? Two days? A week?"  
  
I shook my head. "Just wait."  
  
He wandered off, and I let my head fall back against the wall. I was tired, so tired from my sleepless night and the long trek up the temple steps.   
  
"Aaaaaaahhh!"  
  
I started upright at the sound of Jecht's cry, to see him on the ground, cradling his forearm as he writhed with pain. I ran to him and knelt beside him. "Fool! You were told not to touch anything!"  
  
I gripped his forearm hard. In this temple, dedicated to fire, there was no water to be had at all, and Braska was the only one who could heal the man. I could take him out past the trials again to see one of the priests but I couldn't leave Braska here alone.   
  
I unstoppered my tokkuri, and began to trickle the little water I carried carefully onto the raised welts on his palm and fingers.  
  
"Shit, man, I'd rather drink it!" Jecht complained.  
  
"It's water, nothing more."  
  
"Ahhhh...all this time, I thought you were holding out on me." He seemed a little better, and I examined the injury. The skin was neither charred nor broken, but raised red welts that would undoubtedly continue to swell and blister until treated. Braska could be hours still, and the water I had was insufficient. "C'mon." I pulled on his arm while I considered options, I didn't even have a cloth I could dampen. "Got a hankie?"  
  
"Nahhh..."   
  
"Hmphh." I took off my coat and gave it to him. "Put this on."  
  
"Why the hell...?"  
  
"You'll see." I told him, and for once he complied without further question. No doubt the pain had clouded his mind. I took his arm carefully and unbuckled the straps on the sleeve, removing them, and then gently placed the fabric over his palm. I began to soak the cloth with the water, leaving a little in the bottom of the jug for later. "Alright. How's that?"  
  
"He, clever. You're the real Mr-fix-it-man, aren't you, Auron?"  
  
I gave him a sharp look, but didn't say anything. After a time he began to doze off, his body's natural reaction to injury, but I was now sleepless. It had been a dereliction of my duty, and I was mortified at myself for it.   
  
When we'd first entered the trials Braska had begun the arduous process of transporting the elemental spheres, calling on all his spiritual reserves to do so without suffering injury. Jecht had wandered over to a pedestal and reached out to touch one of the brightly glowing spheres that rested within its recess and I'd slapped his hand away, warning him not to touch. But like an obstinate child, Jecht's curiousity was impossible to contain, and I should have known and guarded against it.   
  
Finally there was movement, the grating sound of stone on stone as the door to the chamber of the fayth began to open. I hurried forward up the steps to meet Braska, who fell into my arms, his face glistening with sweat. "My lord!"   
  
"Auron..." His hands clutched my bare arms as I led him down the steps. Jecht was huddled against the wall in my coat. I hated to tell Braska, but it must be done.  
  
"My lord, Sir Jecht, is...injured. He touched the sphere." I gestured to the orb that glowed bright orange/red in the doorway. "I can carry him out, if you can walk by yourself."  
  
"No...I'll, let me see." He gathered his strength and knelt beside Jecht, taking up the wet sleeve and exposing his palm.   
  
Jecht stirred under his touch. "Finally made it, huh?"  
  
"Yes, finally. Didn't Auron tell you not to touch anything?"   
  
"Yeah, but you were...so I thought...anyway, I'm okay, Auron looked after me."  
  
"It's alright. Hold on." His hands were infinitely gentle as he cradled Jecht's hand in his own, then he brushed his fingers over his wrist, running down over the stretched and angry skin on his hand. I was standing close enough to feel the 'glow' of warmth that emanated from that touch and could see it reflected in Jecht's face.   
  
There was a touch of awe there as he looked at Braska, finally understanding some of a summoner's power. He looked down to where Braska was still stroking his skin, his hands finally coming to rest. Braska smiled. "Better?"  
  
"Ah...yeahhhh..." He looked up at me then back to Braska again, then down to his hand once more. "How'd you...do that?"  
  
"Don't you have healing arts, in your Zanarkand?"   
  
He rose, and I helped him up, and he in turn held a hand down to Jecht who took it and also rose. "Yeah, but not like that. More like Mr fix-it here." He waved at me.   
  
Braska gave me a look of amusement. "Mr fix it?"  
  
"I did what I could." I was uncomfortable speaking about it and it showed. Braska turned away and staggered a little and I moved to his side.  
  
"Lean against me."  
  
He complied, putting his arm over my shoulders and I supported him until we reached the main section of the temple.   
  
"We should rest here for the night, I think." I told him and he nodded, and so we made our way to the rooms set aside for visiting summoners. Once Braska was resting Jecht took off my coat and handed it to me.   
  
"Thanks. I'm sorry...about..."  
  
"It was my fault." I decided it was time to explain, so he would understand. "I'm supposed to protect you, and I failed. I apologise."  
  
"Wha...? But you're Braska's guardian."  
  
"Yes. Yes I am. And Lord Braska told me to protect you."  
  
He frowned. "Am I missing something here? When did he tell you that? And why?"  
  
"When we met you. As for why, you should ask him yourself."  
  
"I don't get it. He tells you to do something, and that's it? No discussion will be entered into, you just do it?"  
  
"Pretty much."   
  
He shook his head. "So if he said, 'Auron, stand on one foot and jump up and down on the spot' you're gonna do that?"  
  
"If he ever asked me to, yes. But he never would, so you can forget about hoping to record it on a sphere."  
  
Jecht started to laugh, and slapped my shoulder. "You can be a real funny guy sometimes, when you're not being a total grouch."  
  
I was feeling pretty grouchy now, but decided not to mention it. "C'mon. Bring your sword."  
  
"Where're we going now?"  
  
I didn't answer, but led him to the armoury of Kilika temple, wandering around until I found the weapon grounds. A priest there came over and bowed low. "Sir Guardian..."  
  
I bowed in return, although not quite so low. "This man is guardian to Summoner Braska. He requires instruction."  
  
The priest bowed once more, this time in Jecht's direction who looked at me inquiringly. I shrugged, then left him there with the priest to let them sort things out together. Back in the room with Braska I collapsed into the other bed, and was soon soundlessly and dreamlessly asleep.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
A/N: I've given up on trying to enforce any kind of tense shifts in this story. Auron seems to wants to tell the stuff happening now in past tense, and the previous journey with Braska in present tense, and who am I to argue with a dead guy? :)  
  
Hope you like this story anyway, regardless of the above, and I'll try to keep writing something interesting while I edit 'A Secret Journey'. CC, feedback, comments and suggestions are all welcome, please R & R, or email: tuatha@coastalnet.com.au 


	7. Chapter seven

XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
Jecht shook me by the shoulder roughly. "Where tha hell 'm I shupposed ta sleep?"  
  
"What?" He was leaning against me, his breath sour on my face and I was instantly wide awake.   
  
"'m not shleeping on the floor."   
  
"Have you been drinking?"  
  
"Sho what?" He slurred, drunkenly defiant. He was also too loud, and would wake Braska if he continued.  
  
I rolled away from him and he grunted as his head hit the mattress. I padded over to where Braska was still asleep, and I pushed his shoulder until he turned, giving me enough room to slide into the bed beside him. Somehow despite the rude awakening I fell asleep again almost straight away, but woke again hours before daylight. Braska was now resting with his head against my chest, drooling a little, and his elbow dug uncomfortably into my ribs. I looked across at Jecht who was now snoring loudly, his head flung back in his sleep. I turned, pulling Braska's arm out from my side and he settled against me more comfortably, muttering something too low for me to hear before he returned to slumber.   
  
I closed my eyes, torn between two recollections from my childhood, one that I wished I could forget, and one that I only wished I could remember more clearly. In the strange way of memories, my parents were a snapshot, both standing facing me, the light behind them streaming in through the open window and door of our house, but their figures were just a blur, an outline with no recognisable features. When I recalled the only image that remained of them in my mind I could imagine myself hugging her, my head no higher than her waist as she put her arms around me. Lying there with Braska reminded me of that feeling.   
  
But in the dark and silence I still felt a sense of unease. Perhaps it was being in the temple again. After my parents died I grew up in the dormitory at Bevelle, and sharing beds with other boys became the rule rather than the exception. It was only the oldest and strongest boys who could choose their bed companions, and they were the ones most likely to invade the space of the others.  
  
I'd only been six or seven years old when I first went there, and the youngest children thought nothing of it. Fights would break out occasionally at night, and it wasn't until a few years later when my own head was pressed into the pillows to muffle my cries while my body was violated that I learned why.  
  
The next day I'd felt too ill to move, and I'd been left alone, but several nights later and I don't know how many times after that...I'd finally become desperate enough to slip away from my usual assigned duties in the temple gardens. I'd gone down the hill to where the warrior monks would practice swordsmanship and other fighting arts, waiting till the head of the order noticed me.  
  
"I want to fight." I'd told him.   
  
He'd looked down at me, a scrawny child of no more than ten years at that time, and shook his head. "You're too little."   
  
"I will fight!" I replied, narrowing my eyes obstinately. Something in my resolve may have impressed him, but still he gestured to the pile of swords nearby, dismissively.   
  
"I'm sure you will, but even the smallest sword would be too heavy for you."  
  
I ignored his sage advice and went over, looking at the pile of bright blades, finally fixing my eye on the hilt of one. I reached down with both hands and heaved.   
  
"You'll never be able to lift it." The man said again, but I grit my teeth and hauled it up off the ground.   
  
"I will!" I think I was talking more to the sword than to him, by then. My feet slid apart as my muscles strained for purchase, then I swung the sword up in an arc. It was indeed too heavy, falling again since I did not have the strength to balance it in the air, but I braced myself and crouched beneath as it hit my shoulder. I staggered under the weight, my back bowing, but I wouldn't give in.  
  
My feet slid apart even further and my arm muscles trembled with the effort of balancing it on my shoulder. I did not feel anything approaching triumph, or pleasure at proving him wrong, only determination, only the desperate need to try. I think it was the latter that finally persuaded him to help me.  
  
"Alright." He came over and helped lift the sword from me, dropping it back in the pile with a clang of metal on metal. "You'll cut your ear off if you're not careful, with a trick like that."  
  
Then he led me over to the woodpile. The trunk of an entire tree rested there, and he handed me an axe, showing me how to swing it correctly. Then he pointed to the woodpile. "When this is all over there, you can come back to the sword, right?"  
  
I nodded gratefully, and bowed respectfully in gratitude. "Yes, sir."  
  
When the children returned from the fields that day, I was still swinging the axe despite the blisters that had formed all over my palms. One boy slowed down as he walked, watching me, and I raised the axe, my eyes sharper than the blade I held in my hands. After that I was left alone at night.  
  
It was an unspoken secret that we shared as boys, and I did not speak of it now either. I doubted that anyone like Braska or Jecht who had not grown up in such an institutionalised setting would understand, but it was something that I'd wanted to leave behind in the dark. I preferred to keep the memory locked up in the past, and telling someone else would make it real, not just a memory that I could pretend to forget.  
  
It was strange that even though I wanted to I couldn't forget it. Like a wound, whenever my thoughts touched the edges of those recollections they were clear and precise and painful, undulled by time. Unlike my parents. That memory had been overshadowed by the events that followed them, running up the path, my sandals slapping hard against the dusty ground, out of breath, the stitch in my side that left me limping and wheezing as I struggled to go for help.  
  
I'd arrived at the house of the nearest neighbours, unable to speak with exhaustion and distress, stuttering with tears streaming down my face. After what seemed like an eternity while I was unable to speak the man turned away and gestured to his sons to go with him, while his wife took me inside.  
  
It was not Sin that took my parents, unlike many of the other boys I met at the temple afterwards. My parents hadn't been taken by the monster or its spawn, but a simple, stupid accident. They used machina, temple approved machina in the fields, as did the rest of the farming community where I'd grown up.   
  
I'm not sure how I knew exactly what happened, in the following days someone must have explained how my mother had been using a metal pole to clear the hopper, walking along beside it as my father ran the machine. She either fell in, or her dress or sleeve was caught, and instead of turning off the machina my father tried to free her in desperation and been caught as well. All I remembered was the red of his blood and hers, everywhere, staining the grass, splattered over the metal of the machina, and all over them.   
  
Later I often wondered why he acted so stupidly and recklessly, as if there could ever be an answer, if he'd just acted instinctively to try to save her, or if he'd not cared about his own safety. After that I was dispossessed, being too young to be alone, and the farm reverted to the community. And so I lost my family and my home. All I had left was a faded memory. Lying here with Braska beside me was a comfort, I had nothing to fear but my own memories that would not let me sleep.   
  
My troubling reflections might have continued indefinitely. Braska half woke, and realised I was awake too. His hand patted my face, mashing over my eyebrow uncomfortably, then slid over the side of my head. "I can hear you thinking." He murmured, softly.   
  
"hnnnn." I told him.  
  
"Got to sleep." He murmured, his hand coming around my neck as he curled against my side. I closed my eyes and listened to his soft snores, his face pressed against my shoulder. Eventually I slept again, sinking into dreams that I forgot by morning.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
I drifted in Zanarkand, watching them, watching over him, but I maintained a distance from the people around me. I 'visited' them once a week to maintain the pretence that I had a life to return to in the intervening days.   
  
She wondered at my devotion to the promise I'd made Jecht, no doubt imagining us in our cups one night and making foolish declarations, never thinking there would ever be a need to keep them. I think she'd expected that I would cease my visits once I'd allayed my conscience, but she accepted it, as she did most things then, not really caring about anything but her own sorrow.   
  
The boy too accepted my presence, but not for the same reasons. It was something he'd change if he could, banishing me from existence, but was powerless to affect. I watched him from the deck as I'd arrived earlier than usual that day. He kicked desultorily at the ball, trying to bounce it against the mast, but more often than not missing and having to run after it as it rolled away across the deck of the houseboat.  
  
I could see his frustration mounting as he lined the ball up once more. He almost missed the ball entirely and it skewed away from his foot, spinning wildly back towards me. He saw me standing there then.   
  
His anger was directed at the nearest object. "Stupid ball!"  
  
I'd had enough. I went over and stopped the ball, picking it up and placing it back between his feet. Then I crouched down to his level. "Why do you let it defeat you?"  
  
"I'm not. I'm trying..." He didn't look at me, his eyes resting somewhere near my shoulder. He seemed to cringe slightly at my proximity and I wondered if he was afraid of me. My scar was unpleasant, even I disliked seeing it, so for a boy of his age it was undoubtedly even more so. I tried not to let the thought bother me.  
  
"You try, yes. Here, and here." I grasped his upper arm, the muscle there, and then knocked against his chest above his breastbone. "But somewhere up here," and I pressed a hand against his head in demonstration "...you listen to a voice inside that says 'I can't do it.'"  
  
He sniffled, and I was reminded of Jecht saying he was a crybaby. Jecht had never had the patience to help the boy in the way he needed. "You need to listen differently."  
  
"How?" He still didn't look at me, but at least he was listening, as though he was interested in what I had to say.  
  
"You'll know when you hear it. When the voice says 'I *can* do anything, if I keep trying.' you'll be more successful."  
  
When I stood he looked down at the ball, lying between his feet, but didn't move. "Enough for now. Go wash up, lunch will be ready soon."  
  
He didn't look happy about it but he complied anyway. I turned to see her watching me. She turned away to face out to sea, leaning over the railing so I went over and stood beside her, also watching the horizon.  
  
"I'm glad you're here. I just sometimes feel like...I can't..." she broke off whatever she was going to say, then she continued more steadily. "It's a relief to know that someone..."  
  
"I understand."  
  
"Tidus just doesn't...he isn't very strong." It was an understatement of sorts, both physically and mentally. She sighed. "Jecht couldn't understand, he didn't know how to be gentle, the way you are with him."  
  
I remained silent, not sure how to take her words. It hurt to be compared to the boy's father in that way. If Jecht had been able to return I knew he would have changed that.  
  
"Do you ever get more than one day away from your work?" Her question was wistful, uncertain. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You probably have family, and you've already spent so much time helping us."  
  
"I...no. I have no family...living." I considered, choosing my words carefully. "If I may I'd like to take Tidus to the stadium on Saturdays, when I'm here in Zanarkand. There's a clinic run there in the mornings, it would help him I think. And he can stay for the matches in the afternoon."  
  
"You don't have to..."  
  
I shook my head. "I was considering asking you about it, before. You could come too, if you wanted."   
  
She shook her head, but the next Saturday she came and sat in the bleachers while Tidus participated in the training clinic. He was a good swimmer, and he held his own as he and the other children were set laps around the pool, not even touching the blitzballs that floated near the centre of the smaller training sphere.   
  
I left them there, implying that I had other 'work' to take care of, and returned near midday. She was standing with Tidus, his hair still dripping water at the ends, her hand on his shoulder.   
  
"Do you want to?" she was asking him as I approached.  
  
"Yes."   
  
She turned to me. "I'm going home now...I'll leave him in your care."   
  
I nodded as she turned to the boy. "Be good." she admonished him. "Do what Auron says."  
  
Once she left I took him out to get tickets for the game and some food at one of the stands. We watched the exhibition match and the league game later, and I dropped the pretence of having any other work to do. Tidus was too young to notice anything strange about the fact that I could spend the afternoon doing nothing more than sitting at a sports game with a little boy.   
  
It became a new part of his life after that, spending the Saturday with me, as his mother did not go with us again. She stayed at the houseboat, alone with her thoughts and content to leave the boy to me for a day.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
Besaid was tiny, both the island and the village. No more than a half dozen huts clustered around the temple, which was itself situated on the top of a gentle cliff that overlooked the bay where we'd arrived. Jecht made a disparaging comment about the primitive conditions when the village came into view before us on the path, but Braska stopped for a moment, looking around and seeming charmed by the simple peacefulness of the place.  
  
"This looks like a fine place to live. Auron..."   
  
"Yes, my lord?"  
  
"When this is all over...will you bring Yuna here? I want her to be able to live her life somewhere like this, far from conflict."  
  
I knew what he was thinking. He didn't have to say 'When I am dead.'   
  
He knew that I would return alone. He wanted me to keep his daughter safe, and bring her here where Sin would only be a memory. At least until it returned again. My response of course was assent. "You have my word. I will bring her here."  
  
His gaze was serious. "Thank you, Auron. You're a good friend."  
  
Jecht interrupted, looking at us impatiently. "What are you guys doin'? Let's go."  
  
He led us down the path complaining about his stomach. A little child was crouched in the dirt outside one of the first huts. She looked up and saw Braska first. He paused as the girl ran over to him, and waved her hand up at him, her fingers splayed out to display the dirt she'd collected. "Eesh!" She told him proudly.  
  
He bent down to her, and examined her offering gravely. Then he smiled at her and the little girl's face opened into a wider, brighter smile, her blue eyes lighting up and sparkling brightly.   
  
"Eesh!" she told him again.  
  
A young woman ran over, bowing hastily at Braska as she pulled the child's hand away.   
  
Braska gave her an admiring glance as she gathered up the girl in her arms, expertly swinging her around to avoid the muddy fingers the little girl was still cheerfully waving around. She smiled back at him. Beside me Jecht let out a long low whistle. She looked at him and gave him a slow smile, completely unfazed by the way his eyes travelled over her body.   
  
"Hey, babe." He drawled. She eyed him but did not reply, turning back to Braska instead. "My lord, Summoner?"  
  
"I am Braska." He bowed gravely then straightened up. "These are my guardians, Jecht, and Auron."  
  
"Welcome to Besaid. Please, come to the temple, Lord Summoner."  
  
Jecht was watching her as she walked away with Braska in tow.   
  
"Don't." I warned him, as Braska followed the girl towards the village centre.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Just don't. Her husband is probably out fishing, all you'll cause is trouble for everyone."  
  
"A man can look. Anyway, what's the big deal? Just 'coz you and Braska like sucking each others..."  
  
I turned without thinking, my shoulder pressed against his chest and my sword across his throat. He broke off speaking, leaning backwards to avoid the blade.   
  
"If you want those to be your last words...continue."  
  
I stared at him but he gazed back defiantly. "Is that sword your answer to everything?"   
  
'Yes' I thought, but didn't say. Somehow every word out of his mouth was like salt poured on an open wound I didn't even know I had. Our stand-off finally ended when Braska's arm inserted itself between him and me, grasping my wrist and pulling me back from the edge.   
  
"Auron!" He was shocked by my actions, and he looked at Jecht like a man at his wits end. "Why? Do you two do this? All the time?"  
  
  
  
Jecht shrugged, stepping away. "Auron just can't take a joke. Ask him what *his* problem is." He turned and loped away. Braska turned back to me. "Auron?"  
  
I turned my back to him. "My lord."  
  
He came around to face me, and put his hands on my shoulders. "Seriously, Auron. I've never seen you like this. You have to tell me what's going on between you and Sir Jecht."  
  
I shook my head but he was adamant. "No. You will. As soon as I greet the high priest and we can go somewhere to talk. Understood?"  
  
I did not reply, but he knew I had no choice but to assent to whatever he told me. He looked back towards the village, then pulled me along until I complied, following him reluctantly, like a man heading for his own execution.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX 


	8. Chapter eight

Steamed shellfish, a wild pig spitted over the fire, fresh fish, wild rice. The villagers had brought the best they had to offer, for the summoner they hoped would bring the next calm. It was a small sacrifice, much smaller than his would be.  
  
Torches streamed warm light over the beach and most of the islanders were celebrating near the biggest of the fires that had been started. They would come over to talk to him, in ones and twos, thanking him and asking him to bear the burden of their hopes and dreams.  
  
I stood in his shadow, watching the warm firelight play over his expressive features, the gravity of his smile as he calmly reiterated that 'Yes, he too hoped that he could free Spira from fear and suffering.' It was a far cry from our departure from Bevelle. Here the villagers did not care about our pasts, only what we might accomplish.   
  
The tiny village boasted a lodge for the Besaid chapter of the Crusaders, but no inn or hotel, so we would be sleeping at the lodge and dependent on the generosity of the islanders for food over the next two days.  
  
Jecht wandered around and I tried to keep an eye on him as I waited by Braska's side. Some of the younger men had started a game of ball down near the waves and Jecht had joined in, showing off I thought, as he pulled an impressive array of stunt-like moves, finally sending the ball far off down the beach. There were claps and gasps of appreciation from many of the onlookers, and some of the boys ran off to try to find the ball in the darkness.  
  
Jecht wandered back up the dunes and straight over to the young woman with the child.   
  
"My Lord." Braska looked at me, responding to the warning tone in my voice and then to where I was looking. Jecht was leaning over the girl and speaking. It was easy to see he was trying to win her over with his posturing and significant looks.   
  
"Hmmm." Braska said nothing more, but he led me over to where Jecht was with the girl, and whatever Jecht had been saying he broke off when we approached. Braska leaned down to the little girl, who had been cleaned of the mud she'd been collecting earlier in the day.   
  
"Hello." He told her.  
  
She reached out immediately to put her arms around his neck and he hoisted her up to perch on his arm. "Eesh!" she told him in reply.   
  
He looked at her mother smiling. "What's her name?"  
  
"Aisha." she told him and the little girl echoed her.  
  
"Eesh." She looked back at her mother, beaming. "Aaaaah!"  
  
Braska laughed. "Aye-eeshh-ah! That's a very pretty name." He spoke to the girl in his arms, seriously but with an undertone of deep affection.  
  
"She has just learned to say it, and she says it all the time, don't you, Aisha..." The woman explained, taking the girl when she reached out for her from Braska's arms, and cuddling her against her side.   
  
"She's a beautiful girl...just like her mother." Jecht drawled.  
  
I glared at him, to no effect since he had no eyes for anyone but the mother and child, but he must have gone too far because the woman looked away then, down at the ground and then spoke to Braska instead of responding to Jecht's compliment. "You'll excuse me now, I have to put Aisha to bed." With the child almost asleep in her arms she couldn't bow, but made a little bobbing motion toward him instead. "I will pray for your success tomorrow."  
  
Braska thanked her gravely and she made her way up the beach, leaving us standing apart from the others. The fires were burning low and the villagers stood in tiny knots or sat quietly conversing. It was getting quite late. Braska turned and sat in the sand, looking out at the dark horizon beyond the waves. "Such a pretty girl."   
  
He sounded sad, and I knew he was talking about Aisha and not her mother, thinking about Yuna who he'd left in Bevelle and would most likely never see again.  
  
"Yeah..." Jecht responded.   
  
"You..." I began to say.   
  
"Auron." Braska was tired and his voice sounded it as he interrupted my admonishment. We still hadn't spoken, having no opportunity to do so, and Braska would have to face the trials tomorrow. He needed to rest.  
  
"Shit." Jecht turned away and kicked at the sand. "I was talking about the kid, alright!" He waved his arm impatiently with his back turned to us. "I miss my own boy. You know?"   
  
Then he crouched down beside Braska. "I don't know, what's happened to him. Is he...dead?"  
  
Braska turned his head, looking at the man beside him. "I don't know. But you're alive. There is hope." he told him, and rested his hand on Jecht's comfortingly.  
  
"Yeah, you're right. Maybe I'll see him again. Somehow." He shook himself, like a dog shaking off water, then he stood. "I'm going back now. Gotta rest up for tomorrow, eh?"  
  
When he left I collapsed into the sand beside Braska with my arms over my knees and buried my head against them. Jecht made me feel like a heel, effortlessly, for accusing him of misbehaviour on the one occasion he was being reasonable. It seemed unfair, but somehow I deserved it. I felt Braska's hand stroke my hair.  
  
"Auron, what are we going to do?" he asked me gently.  
  
I raised my head to look out over the dark waves. "I don't know."  
  
"We'll sleep on it, I think. I'm tired. Just...stay near me, for now."   
  
He meant to protect me by saying it, to keep me near and under his influence. It implied that I needed his help but by this time I was grateful. I couldn't take much more of Jecht's taunts and didn't want to do something I'd regret.   
  
I nodded. "I will."   
  
The next morning he casually asked Jecht if he'd prefer to go out with the fishing fleet instead of waiting around in the temple while he prayed to the fayth.  
  
"Sounds like it might be fun. But aren't your guardians supposed to go with you?"  
  
"It's usual, but not necessary. And I have Auron."  
  
Jecht looked at me. "Yeah, you do..." His eyes were dark, but I detected nothing untoward in his attitude or his words. "Alright! I'm sure it will be a lot less boring than hanging around with Auron all day."  
  
We went down to the bay and one of the men who'd played ball on the beach readily agreed to let Jecht go with them.   
  
"Be careful, Sir Jecht. We don't want to lose you."  
  
Jecht grinned. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be alright. I could probably swim faster than this boat, anyway."   
  
He waved at Braska dismissively so we went back to the temple. Braska did not say anything about how he had separated us, saving me from embarrassment, but later after he had entered the chamber of the fayth alone I had time to think, and felt lonely for some unexplainable reason. Whatever his faults, Jecht seemed capable of maintaining an easy-going and friendly relationship with almost everyone but myself, and I began to realise that it was at least as much my fault as his.   
  
  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
I gazed out over the grassland that surrounded us on every side. The highroad was a misnomer for the beaten down strip of bare and dusty soil that meandered through the fields, which rippled gold and green, like waves in the gentle breeze that moved across the plain.   
  
It wasn't exactly like home, which had been further north of here, but it was close. The fields looked the same.   
  
Yuna called me back from my thoughts. "Sir Auron!"   
  
I turned to see her standing with her staff in a formal attitude. "Please, tell me about my father. I'd like to know...how you met, and became...his guardian."  
  
We walked side by side with the others around us while I thought about what to tell her. "We met in Bevelle."  
  
'On the day that I needed him to, and he needed me, we met.' but I couldn't tell her that. I gave her an account that left out more than it said, but I found myself thinking about it.   
  
One more day and I would have decided, to marry, to give in, to tie myself to a woman I felt nothing more than a slight antipathy for, and that only because she seemed to think that the warrior monks were an organisation devoted to nothing more important than providing her with her choice of a husband, and any higher purpose was only incidental.  
  
In truth I'd spent the day trying to reconcile myself to a decision that had already been made. I did not see any way to undo it, and I stood on a bridge over one of the temple thoroughfares, lost in thought, when I looked up, and into Braska's eyes.  
  
He was dressed in a robe of unusual design and carried his staff in his hand. He saw me at the same instant and stopped, and I felt a shock of recognition, not of him, for I'd never seen him before as far as I could recall, but a recognition of feeling and a sense that even though we hadn't met we did know each other.  
  
He seemed to look into me from a distance and still be able to see the turmoil and confusion I felt, and instead of turning away as a stranger, responded with empathy and understanding, as though I was his brother, or an old friend for whom he had some previous fellow feeling. I knew that he would come to me, and he did, stepping out across the road with purpose in my direction and when he spoke he did so with familiarity and caring.  
  
"Can I help you?"  
  
I was shocked by his bold assumption, his daring, and yet I knew as well as he did that we understood each other. I replied in the same fashion. "I don't know."  
  
"Let me try. Please."  
  
I looked at him and didn't reply, but he took my silence for the assent it was. "Come with me and we can talk. I live up here, it's not too far."  
  
He waved in a gesture that meant nothing as far as distance, but I accepted his assurance, finding nothing in his manner that I could possibly perceive as a threat. I followed him and he asked me my name which I told him, and he told me his.  
  
As we walked he began to talk, telling me almost everything about himself. His candour and lack of reserve was almost completely opposite to my own taciturnity, but he showed no offence at my silence. He just smiled when his pauses resulted in nothing more than a look and continued speaking.  
  
He said he had grown up in unremarkable fashion in the same district where he now resided, and as a youth had shown some promise at magic and healing arts, so had enrolled at the temple to learn medicine. He had not felt called to anything in particular, other than helping others, particularly the sick and injured, and had been satisfied to complete his training. Then instead of remaining in the city he had wandered around Spira, venturing to the mountains and other inaccessible areas, sharing his abilities wherever needed in those places where there were no temples or priests.  
  
He did not have to barter much, his gifts being highly appreciated wherever he went, and I could imagine from his demeanour that the people in many of the places he visited had been very sad to see him go.  
  
He led me through a part of the city I had never had occasion to visit. I spent most of my time within the grounds of the temple itself and only used the main roads leading in and out of the city when I ventured out. This was a back street, with little alleys running off it from side to side, one of which he led me along. It was unfinished, tiny yards with patches of green and washing strung up on lines, interspersed with the backs of shops and bins of rubbish, lines of fences that seemed to lean precariously in places, none of which matched the next one. It was a lot different to the public face of perfect wide boulevardes that Bevelle showed to the world.   
  
Braska seemed completely at home here, and we finally reached a stairway tucked into the side of one of the buildings. He led me up the narrow stairs, still talking breathlessly, and into a tiny room. There were windows along the front which he pushed open, a tiny kitchen and an alcove leading off to what I guessed was a bathroom. The rest of the room contained only a bed, a tall wardrobe, a small square table and a chair. Nothing else would have fitted.   
  
"Sit where you like." He went to the little kitchen and poured water from the tap to make refreshments for us, and I sat gingerly in the chair, feeling a bit foolish for following him here. I had no idea what to say to him. I looked around me at this place that he lived in. A white robe hung from the wardrobe door, his night-clothes I guessed, but the door to the cupboard was open and there were no other clothes in there, just some books and some bottles of medicine and herbs. No doubt from his work. He seemed to have nothing else, just a blanket on the bed, his staff and the robe he wore, and the food he was setting out for us.  
  
I found myself not wanting to take anything from him. He had so little, even to a monk like myself his obviously spartan existence struck me as severely ascetic. I sipped at the drink he'd made, a flower tea of some sort, but ignored the food. He showed no such reticence, taking one of the sandwiches, thick slices of bread with meat between them and sat cross-legged on the bed.  
  
"Have some, it's really good." He took a large bite, and looked out the window while he chewed. A pigeon fluttered down to land on the roof outside and he jumped up, breaking some of the crust off and tossing it out. Then a flurry of white feathers erupted as several more birds came to rest nearby. "Seriously, it'll go stale, if you don't. The lady at the shop downstairs always gives me too much, I can't eat it all in a week, let alone a day or two. She thinks I'm too skinny." He smiled a lopsided grin that took off a dozen years, making him look boyish.   
  
I could believe him. He was so unassuming and pleasant, I thought that any lady in any shop would give him too much. So I ate his food. It helped to reduce my discomfort, if I was eating I didn't have to start talking.   
  
"I won't be staying here for much longer, and she is worried I'll starve to death when I leave." He turned his head towards the light coming from outside, and the breeze coming in through the windows lifted his hair. "I'll be leaving soon, to go on a pilgrimage."  
  
I almost dropped my sandwich. "You're a summoner?"  
  
His eyes were wise, and sad with the knowledge that I'd instantly understood the import of his words. "I will be. Soon."  
  
I felt a pang of sharp regret at the thought of him taking such a journey. I barely knew him, and yet I didn't want to see him go off to die. And he knew, his eyes told me he knew exactly what I was feeling. I couldn't eat any more of his sandwich, and dropped it back on the plate.   
  
"I know I am meant to do this. My wife...I met her during my journeying, she and her people were hiding in a small cove near the sea and I stumbled across them. The men were...afraid..." and he laughed "of me! So I...I'd learned Al Bhed, but never heard it spoken, so I stumbled through it as well as I could, telling them I could heal their injured if they needed it, and one of them led me to their camp.  
  
"There was an old man, with a fever of the blood of some sort, I think that's why they were there on the coast. They couldn't have moved him without risk, anyway. I did what I could. And that's how I met his daughter."  
  
His eyes became reflective as he told me about her. "She was...beautiful. It was unbelievable, just seeing her for the first time I knew...and she looked at me and I knew she loved me too. We couldn't talk to each other, she knew absolutely no Yevonite, and I could barely put two words together in Al Bhed, but...there was an understanding, at once between us.   
  
"The old man got better so they had to leave, and made me go, but I couldn't. I just waited nearby, and she came. I don't even know how she found me in the middle of a mountain, but we were together, and we ran down that mountain as fast as we could, with her brothers and father chasing after us. We got married as soon as we reached a village with a priest."  
  
I looked around me at his bare room, his single occupancy apparent. He noticed. "We had a year. I was so happy...so, so happy. She died, but Yuna, our little girl was spared. She lives with my mother's sister, I go to visit her every weekend I can.  
  
"But after that, I knew, what I had to do."   
  
As I listened I understood so much more than his words. His description of his wife told me everything I needed to know about the proposition that had been made to me. His need to journey, to become a summoner spoke to me, and my course became absolutely clear.  
  
I rose from my seat, feeling as though I was moving through quicksand, time slowing down as I knelt before him, his gaze on me showing his comprehension quicker than thought at what I was about to do.  
  
"My lord summoner. I wish to become your guardian, and protect you on your journey. Do you accept?"  
  
He didn't ask me if I was sure, or protest that he hadn't brought me here for such a purpose. He didn't tell me again that he wasn't yet a summoner and so could not yet accept my guardianship. We both knew that he would be, and somehow our meeting had been designed to ensure that I would be ready and able to commit myself to his course.   
  
"Auron...yes. Yes, I accept your guardianship."  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX 


	9. Chapter nine

We make our way around the temple towards the cliff-face, finding a sunny patch of grass sheltered within a grove of trees and sit there. Braska looks exhausted but at peace, and for a time we sit quietly looking down at the ocean below. Further out in the deeper blue water the fishing boats can be seen, indistinct figures moving about beneath the waving sails.  
  
I know that Braska is waiting for me.   
  
"My Lord..." I begin, then hesitate. "Sir Jecht...says things...and he looks at me..." My words come slowly, with difficulty. I am looking at my hands, not directly at him, but I see his eyebrows raise.  
  
"He implies, something...he thinks that we, that I am unnatural."  
  
"Unnatural?"  
  
His voice is low and soothing, but it does not make it easier for me to talk. "Our relations. Th-th-that we are...d-d-d"  
  
"That we are lovers?"   
  
He looks at me but I turn my head sharply away to look at the grass beneath my hand. It moves, tiny blades shifting in the sunlight and air. I don't reply.  
  
"Why does it make you angry? Do you think it might be true?" He asks, gently.  
  
My fingers grasp one of the tiny blades of grass and tug. It snaps between my fingers, leaving a thin trail of sap. Broken so easily. "I'm not...I'm not...what he says."  
  
"Of course not. But Auron...there is nothing sinful about loving someone, and being loved in return. I was married, I should know."  
  
"The teachings say that relations...between m-men are an abomination."  
  
"Teachings penned by a monk in the third century, who feared that Sin's ravages would wipe out Spira's population? The only reason anyone remembers them is because the subject is so fascinating. You should read the entire thing sometime, it's quite enlightening."  
  
I fall silent. I know that he is right and I should be as able to shrug off Jecht's taunts as he is. I know it's ridiculous, but he is right that I am afraid that what Jecht says is true.   
  
"There's still something else, isn't there? You don't have to be afraid to tell me."  
  
He looks at me and his grey eyes reflect the sky from above and the grass below, and the deeper hues of the sea. Under his influence I find more words within and speak again.  
  
"My parents. I don't remember..." I am more shocked at the words that escape me than he is.   
  
"What do you remember?"  
  
I frown, thinking about it. "My mother's dress, it was wh-white. I could see it against the grass. The b-blood. My father's face." I shook my head. I could see him looking at me, his face a pale oval with dark hair in my mind. I'd never remembered seeing his face before.   
  
"You saw them die?"  
  
"I don't know. I don't remember."  
  
He has a puzzled look, as though uncertain what to make of what I've told him, and we fall silent again, both lost in our thoughts.  
  
"I don't want you to be angry about Jecht anymore."  
  
"I understand."  
  
"Auron, that wasn't an order. I meant...have you thought that perhaps Sir Jecht is trying to tell you something?"  
  
"That I'm a...p-"  
  
His hand touches mine, stopping the word before it can get stuck in my throat. "I think he sees quite clearly, something that you don't want to." I attempt to protest but he silences me with his own. "That I love you. How much I love you."   
  
His eyes are greyer now, a darker stormy ocean of colour. "When you asked to be my guardian you agreed to follow me to the very edge of the farplane and no further. So I have no right...to ask you, to follow me in this."   
  
His eyes drift downwards to my lips and I feel a shock of sensation in the pit of my stomach. His hand on mine shifts slightly, then moves to my knee. I feel as though I cannot move, suspended in stillness as he leans towards me and his lips move closer, brushing lightly against mine. My eyes close as his have done, and his hand tightens once as he presses his lips more firmly against mine. The sensation is pleasant, his lips warm and pliant, molding to mine, so that when he pulls away our lips cling a little as though reluctant to part from each other.   
  
He examines me intently, searching for an answer to his question, but I have none to give. I cannot reconcile Braska's words with Jecht's jeering taunts, the kiss I just received with my memories. My confusion must be evident because Braska does not seem impatient or embarrassed at my silence, and there is only a hint of ruefulness in his eyes when he looks away.  
  
"My Lord..."  
  
"It's alright."   
  
"Lord Braska!" He looks back at my tone. "I love you."  
  
"Auron...I already knew that."  
  
He lies back in the grass and closes his eyes.   
  
"Don't worry, it will be alright." He says, and after a time I think he falls asleep. I sit beside him, guarding his rest, but my mind is in turmoil, and remains so for many days and nights following.   
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX   
  
Jecht grins at our approach and hoists up a fish almost two-thirds his own height. "Check it out, guys!"  
  
The young fisherman with him does not cease his work filleting and cleaning but looks up and his eyes crinkle. "Catch of the day, that one! Think we should cut him up now for tonight, eh?"  
  
"I dunno, Marro." Jecht grabs the tail and head and holds it at chest height. "I reckon it'd make a nice trophy on the wall."   
  
"Better eating though, we'll have a big party tonight, better than last night, ya?"  
  
Jecht laughs and drops the fish beside Marro, and watches as he expertly slices the flesh from the backbone, flipping it and cutting away the fins, tossing the unwanted parts back into the sea. Lesser gulls swoop and dive around the boats as the day's catch is cleaned, and nets are strung out on the beach to dry. Children also run around on the dock, some working, others talking and watching the men. It's a busy scene.   
  
"Later, Marro." Jecht tells his friend, who looks up.  
  
"I'll see you later, tonight! And if you come back to Besaid, you fish with me again, right?" He grinned at Jecht, but then saw Braska and his smile faltered slightly.   
  
Jecht seems not to notice. "You bet."  
  
He came over, and we wandered up the path towards the village.   
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
The boat to Kilika is not crowded now but it will be from Kilika to Luca. Braska talks to the captain and our cabins are assured, and remembering our difficulty finding room to sleep on the island he asks for and receives permission to sleep on board the following night as well while in dock.  
  
Our cabin is tiny, meant to sleep four it is crowded with the three of us at once. Jecht does not take long to escape. "I'm going outside, gonna check out the view."  
  
Braska looks up, I know he dislikes being on the water although he does not say anything. "Be careful, Sir Jecht. If Sin...comes..."  
  
Jecht is dismissive of his concern. "How often does that happen?"  
  
"Often enough." I reply. "Sin is sometimes attracted to boats. The small boats, like the fishing fleet you went with yesterday are usually safe, but...some people think Sin can sense the people on board, if there are many, and rises from the depths to search for them."  
  
Jecht frowns. "Well, I'll make sure I've got something to hang on to then." He grins at me. "Just in case."  
  
Later I leave Braska who is about to begin his meditations and although he doesn't speak his eyes tell me to be careful too.  
  
Jecht is standing by the railing, and I am surprised that the one time I am not looking for him he is easy to find. I had only intended to get some fresh air, so my steps falter when I see him, not wishing to give offence by seeming to ignore him. He looks back when I approach. "Shouldn't you be watching over Braska, Auron?"  
  
"I think he will be safe enough while he completes his morning prayers."  
  
I move to the railing beside him and look out over the ocean, the breeze refreshing against my skin.   
  
"Does he worry like that all the time?" Jecht asks, giving me a sharp look from under his dark brows.  
  
I consider for a moment, then decide to tell him. "Braska's wife...died. She was travelling by boat with their baby when Sin attacked. Yuna, the baby, survived, she did not."  
  
"Ohhhh...right." Jecht looked away. "That's tough. Poor guy."  
  
"Yes. So...be careful."  
  
He looks startled but I do not wait, I leave him, walking around the deck before returning below. I edge around Braska carefully in order not to disturb his prayer trance and select one of the smaller bunks. Jecht will have to take the top one as despite feeling the lack of exercise from this leg of our journey I do not care for climbing.  
  
I close my eyes but my thoughts constantly drift back to yesterday, when Braska kissed me. Jecht seems to have noticed nothing different, and I open my eyes and look at Braska who is kneeling with an expression as pure as a child's. He looks the same. I am afraid it is only I who have changed, somewhere inside.   
  
I close my eyes again and my lips remember his, the way it felt when his hand moved over my knee, the look in his eyes. The memory is enough to stir the feelings again that I felt at the time, an exquisite anguish that lifts me up and destroys me at the same time. I don't want to feel like this. I don't want to become the kind of person who would hurt another for some sick pleasure. But Braska said it was alright. That it was beautiful. His eyes told me he felt the same thing.   
  
My agonising thoughts take me no closer to resolution and I turn in the bed, onto my side facing towards the wall. I slept little the night before, and wonder if I will be able to sleep again without this torment that I feel, but my eyes close despite the emotional battering my body is experiencing from within and I am awoken later by Braska.   
  
It is almost evening, the sky deepening blue as we make our way to the main room where the meals are served. Braska is far from a fading flower when it comes to eating, digging in cheerfully to the rather plain fare. My table manners are more restrained, but he and Jecht are like children, Jecht especially who chews with his mouth open and talks unrestrainedly. He begins telling Braska about his efforts catching the fish yesterday and Braska laughs once and drops his spoon which splatters stew down the front of his robe.   
  
It is Jecht's turn to laugh at him, and he grins back. "Another one to add to the collection." and he points at a red streak down the left side. "That's from having barbecue at the Luca cafe. And this is an egg I had for breakfast in Bevelle." and he points it out as well. "I never seem to wash them out in time."  
  
"Not a problem for me." Jecht says and runs his hand over his bare chest. 'Or for good old Auron here. He eats like a girl."  
  
I look at Braska whose eyes are warm on me, but I have given up responding whenever Jecht insults my masculinity and am able to ignore the slight. His words are as insignificant as pebbles flung carelessly at the walls of a fortress whose defences are crumbling from within.  
  
That evening when we return to the cabin Jecht hoists himself up into the top bunk without complaint, and Braska enters the small adjoining cubicle for ablutions. He washes out the mark on his robe and emerges wearing his night robe. It is short, made of fine lawn and clings to his hip and thigh in the places where it is damp from where he splashed water on it. I look away from him but the image of his body remains behind my eyes for a long time, and for the second night it takes me a long time to sleep.  
  
  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX 


	10. Chapter ten

Part Ten  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
We arrive at Kilika in the early afternoon, and take a walk along  
  
the even more crowded piers. Jecht eyes us both, and then seems to  
  
think better of whatever he wanted to say. I can guess. Braska seems  
  
to as well. "Tired of our company already, Sir Jecht?"  
  
He has the grace to look abashed. "No, it's not that. I just...like  
  
these little ports. Reminds me a lot of home."  
  
"Not Zanarkand?"  
  
"Yeah. Not the city, I mean, we live on a...we lived on a houseboat.  
  
I grew up near the docks, so it's just the atmosphere, and the  
  
people here."  
  
"Well, go then. Have a good time." Braska tells him, and Jecht  
  
grins.  
  
"Right on. Well, catch you later."  
  
"Jecht!"  
  
He looks back at me.  
  
"Whatever you do, don't miss the boat tomorrow." I tell him. He nods  
  
and waves, then quickly disappears through the throng of people that  
  
surround us.  
  
I watch until he is out of sight. "Are you sure that was a good  
  
idea?"  
  
Braska shrugs and responds philosophically. "Time will tell."  
  
As I expected, that evening Jecht does not return to the boat.  
  
After dinner and our baths I disrobe with my back turned, being  
  
careful not to look in Braska's direction, climbing into bed in just  
  
my trousers. It does not seem to matter whether I am tired or  
  
fully-rested, whether I think of him or not, cast my eyes upon him  
  
or desperately avert them. All result in the same restless yearning  
  
in my flesh. I stretch my arms above my head and my fingertips  
  
tingle, as does the flesh beneath my belly. In my desperation I wish  
  
to cry, but there is no relief. I turn my head on the pillow, trying  
  
to be quiet. Then I hear Braska turn, facing me in the darkness.  
  
"Auron?"  
  
"Yes, My lord?"  
  
He sighs "I cannot sleep either." I turn to face him. He lies on his  
  
side, one hand beneath his cheek and begins to talk, dreamily,  
  
sleepily. "Being on a boat, is a constant reminder, of her, of the  
  
fact that she is gone.  
  
"Sometimes, I have this dream, that she is with me. I will be  
  
walking along, and she is walking by my side, holding my hand. In  
  
the dream, she is always there, has always been and will always be  
  
there, and I feel such a sense of peace and contentment...  
  
"I think that she sends the dream to comfort me from the farplane.  
  
But when I am not dreaming of her, I feel so lonely."  
  
"My lord."  
  
"You've never felt that, I know."  
  
It is my turn to sigh. The longing in his voice calls to me, and  
  
despite my fear I rise from my bed. I sit beside him, unable to help  
  
myself despite my reluctance. His hand clasps my forearm.  
  
"Auron. Are you afraid?" His voice is low, warming me from the  
  
inside.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I am too...Lie down with me."  
  
I do as he bids me and he shifts to make room, his arm curling under  
  
my neck as I rest my head on the pillow beside his. I lie stiffly as  
  
he brings his other hand up to stroke my cheek. Then he raises  
  
himself up on his elbow and brings his face closer to mine.  
  
My breath comes hard and fast, and my racing heart turns over in my  
  
chest. My eyes are closed before his lips touch mine and he seems to  
  
hesitate, I can feel his breath lightly wash over my parted lips and  
  
between them.  
  
The feeling is the same, the same, but unbelievably intense as his  
  
gentle caress becomes more passionate and forceful. His lips nip at  
  
mine, sucking against the tender flesh until I cry out. He becomes  
  
more gentle, soothing my lips, his hand stroking my hair and cheek  
  
until I turn my head, and then he rests his own against the pillow.  
  
"Auron..." he presses his face against mine and his lips leave a  
  
warm damp trail on my cheek. "I want to...love you so much...Yevon,  
  
I love you."  
  
"My lord..."  
  
"Braska..."  
  
"My lord...Braska..." My words emerge breathlessly and as low as  
  
his. He resumes his kisses, now soft and persuasive, lulling me into  
  
a near slumbrous state as his hand moves up and down my shoulder and  
  
arms, then over my torso, and lower, slow firm strokes that soothe  
  
where he touches and ignite where he doesn't. I feel myself  
  
floating, growing warmer as liquid heat runs through my veins, pools  
  
on my belly as it gathers beneath his hand. The cloth of my trousers  
  
is no barrier. His hand slides within, beneath the fabric, touching  
  
hot skin and making me gasp into his mouth. He shifts to press his  
  
lips against my ear, touching, stroking, until the pleasure I feel  
  
gathers, contracting until it must burst, I burst, my body surging  
  
and shaking as that intolerable aching need is assuaged at last.  
  
I find myself curled against his shoulder, almost sobbing with  
  
relief, taking great lungfuls of air. His lips move over my face, my  
  
brow and my eyelids and his hand slips away, moving to curl around  
  
my side. I feel the dampness of his palm there, slick against my  
  
flank as his fingers tighten, drawing me towards him.  
  
"It's all right...shhhh...I cried the first time too..."  
  
"My lord. Yo-"  
  
"It's Braska." He reminds me, mildly. "Braska..." He holds me and  
  
talks as my body begins to calm. "I told you how we met, but you  
  
have no idea how incredible it was. She would talk and I would  
  
listen and understand nothing of her words, but it didn't matter.  
  
Everything she felt, wanted, was in her eyes, and the touch of her  
  
hands. I never thought I would feel like that again."  
  
I feel drowsy, tired, wrung out, drained and light-headed. "My l-,  
  
Braska...this is the same? It isn't un-natural?"  
  
"Oh, Auron! Do you know what the first word I really understood of  
  
Al Bhed was? Muja...she would say it over...and over...muja, E muja  
  
oui.  
  
"Muja ec muja, Auron."  
  
I do not really understand the meaning of his words, but his body is  
  
tense, he speaks with fervour and I do understand that. He has  
  
released me, yet lies beside me still burning from that intolerable  
  
flame, that licked at me from the inside until his hands gave me  
  
succour. My hand is on his chest, resting against his ribs. I begin  
  
to touch him as he did me, amazed at the sensory pleasure I derive  
  
from the slide of fabric over skin, skin over fabric, the way he  
  
shifts, infinitesimily closer to me, and the breathy exhalations he  
  
makes.  
  
"Muja sa..." He murmurs.  
  
His eyes are closed, his lower lip softer and fuller in this light.  
  
Normally austere, his face has taken on an aspect of intense longing  
  
that is unaccountably beautiful. It is my turn to lean over him, and  
  
I press my lips against his, the first time I have really kissed  
  
him, initiating the contact that before I've only received with  
  
trepidation. My hand now on his hip tugs at his shirt, drawing it up  
  
until I am touching his bare skin.  
  
At first I am reluctant to touch him, his masculinity too like my  
  
own, and discomfiting. My hand moves at a torturously slow pace,  
  
aware of the contrast of soft and smooth skin inside his hip, the  
  
roughness at mid thigh, the damp warmth of his inner leg, knowing  
  
how cruel it must seem but unable to hasten my attempt to accept  
  
this, this feeling.  
  
Braska demonstrates no such hesitation, contrasting yet again with  
  
my own stiff and unsure touches, by shifting and sighing with each  
  
tentative slide of my fingers over his flesh. His mouth opens  
  
beneath my own, drawing me deeper into awareness of him, his need  
  
for me.  
  
With that awareness comes a renewal of my own, as though sparked  
  
from sympathy for his plight, and I raise my head. His eyes are soft  
  
dove-grey as he opens them. I look down at his body, where my hand  
  
is now clenched on his hip. Contrasts again strike my awareness,  
  
light and shadow, soft and hard, cool and unbearably hot. I bite my  
  
lip as I give in to his desire, closing my eyes to the sight of my  
  
hand moving, moving without pause. I feel his hand touch my cheek  
  
and open them again as he gazes up at me with half-lidded eyes,  
  
gasps with pleasure, and finally cries out as he shifts beneath me,  
  
spattering his night gown with his own release of pleasure.  
  
After a few minutes he rises, returning with a damp washcloth. His  
  
hands move slowly, unfastening my clothing then he wipes my skin  
  
with warm soothing strokes. When he returns and pulls the covers  
  
over us he stretches his body against mine and I can feel the  
  
dampness of his shirt and the warmth of his belly pressed firmly  
  
against my side.  
  
Despite my lack of sleep for the last few nights and my catch up  
  
during the day I am drowsy, and I slide easily into dreams.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
Ruins. They moulder all over Spira, reminders of what once was.  
  
Empty shells, mostly, although often fiends lurk within. They are  
  
dangerous to approach, especially at night. The ancient scholar who  
  
accosts Tidus shows no fear however, he was standing examining the  
  
walls as we approached and walked back to the road. Tidus was  
  
watching him with considerable interest and a look of confusion,  
  
which may be why the old man chose to address him.  
  
"Do you know what those ruins are from?"  
  
"Some old city, I guess."  
  
"Correct. A city most ancient." The old man stands gazing at the  
  
crumbling walls, the fading symbols of a lost world. "It's a  
  
terrible testament to Sin's destructive power. I tremble to see  
  
them. Compared to Sin, humans are mere mudpuppies..."  
  
"But I believe humans are the only ones capable of stopping Sin."  
  
Yuna interjected.  
  
"A good reply. I am relieved to hear you say that, m'lady summoner.  
  
Where are my manners? I am Maechen, a scholar, at your service."  
  
Yuna bowed and introduced herself. "I am Yuna."  
  
"M'lady. I am on a journey, studying the history of our world,  
  
Spira, seeking its stories and secrets...My travels have taken me to  
  
many places, and I am troubled by what I have seen. Fragile smiles  
  
on people's faces crumbling at the mere mention of Sin. They are  
  
counting on you, m'lady. Give them a reason to rejoice once more."  
  
"I will."  
  
The old man arouses my suspicions. He is too helpful, too  
  
obsequious. And he stood too close to the broken wall, as though he  
  
was part of that ancient ruin, emerging to accost travellers with  
  
tales of a world which exists no longer. I am perhaps too  
  
suspicious, and if he is a ghost he seems to be a benign one. We  
  
pass on without incident.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
End of Part Ten 


	11. Chapter eleven

Part 11  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
I do not have very much to pack. My sword is my own, and I have my  
  
clothes on my back. The tokkuri was a gag gift, but it will come in  
  
useful despite the fact that it was a joke. The only time I'd drunk  
  
sake I'd had barely three thimblefuls of the stuff and all I could  
  
recollect afterwards was stumbling to the ground outside the tavern,  
  
throwing up violently and unpleasantly, and then waking with a  
  
rotten headache the next day. Wen thought it was funny and  
  
commemorated the episode by buying me a jug full of the liquor,  
  
which he'd proceeded to drink on my behalf.  
  
Loud footsteps approached my cell then the door banged open. "Auron!  
  
You won't believe the nonsense I just heard!"  
  
I look up at him and he takes in my attitude, the monk's robe folded  
  
neatly on my bed and his words falter. "They say you've refused  
  
her...you can't be serious!  
  
"For Yevon's sake, Auron. How hard can it be? Marriage isn't that  
  
bad a deal." I don't reply, and he comes over and puts a hand on my  
  
shoulder. "So she's no raving beauty, it's not going to matter with  
  
the lights out."  
  
"If you think I'd marry under such circumstances you don't know me  
  
well enough, Kinoc."  
  
"But they'll crucify you!"  
  
"As you can no doubt see, I'm not planning on hanging around for the  
  
execution."  
  
"You're leaving too? Where will you go?"  
  
"Zanarkand."  
  
"What! But that's insane! You're not some fool to go wasting your  
  
life on a fool's pilgrimage..."  
  
"I have already asked and answered, it is too late to undo."  
  
"Who is the summoner?"  
  
"Lord Braska."  
  
"Braska? The heretic? Do you know he's an Al Bhed lover?"  
  
Kinoc sits on my bed, settling in to tell me the story. Kinoc always  
  
had a way with words, persuasive, charming and erudite. I listen  
  
with interest as he continues. "He married an Al Bhed woman then  
  
went around flaunting the relationship without shame. He was  
  
supposed to be brought before the clergy but never stayed in one  
  
place long enough to be apprehended.  
  
"Then he was taken in at Luca, after seeing his wife and child off  
  
on an Al Bhed ship. While he was being questioned some fool came in  
  
and said the ship his wife and daugher was on was lost at sea. And  
  
Braska walked out, just like that. Never mind he was in the custody  
  
of the warrior monks, no one who tried to stop him could lay a hand  
  
on him. He went running down to the dock and someone there handed  
  
him the baby from the marriage, saved by the grace of Yevon no  
  
doubt, and Braska held the tiny squalling thing and began to say the  
  
same thing, over and over again."  
  
Wen pauses for effect. "'I will defeat Sin. I must defeat Sin.' And  
  
after that no one could get through to him. They took him to Maester  
  
Mika and told him he was going to face and defeat Sin, and Mika  
  
would be a fool to try to stop him....  
  
"He called the Grand Maester a fool to his very face! If the man  
  
hadn't been demented by his loss he'd have been executed for that  
  
alone. Maester Mika took pity on him and dropped the charges of  
  
heresy, but I can tell you right now it was only because Mika knew  
  
he'd go off on pilgrimage, the man would have been too dangerous to  
  
let run around loose otherwise. And you're going with him?"  
  
Kinoc's story is enlightening, but it does not deter me. "Yes. He  
  
must finish his training, but I will be going with him when he is  
  
ready."  
  
I fasten my tokkuri to my belt and I am ready to leave the temple.  
  
Kinoc follows me out to the courtyard. I know he would like to argue  
  
further, to remind me of the plans he'd concocted for us, to become  
  
the youngest Maesters in Yevon's long history. He was always the  
  
ambitious one. But he also always knew when to quit, when arguing is  
  
a wasted effort. "At least you'll come to say goodbye I hope, before  
  
you leave."  
  
"Yes. I promise to see you again before I go."  
  
"Alright then. And if you need anything...Auron, you know you only  
  
have to ask."  
  
"I...thank you. You have always been a good friend."  
  
He nods and that is it, I am free of all obligation except that to  
  
my summoner. I feel lighter than I can ever recall in my life, and  
  
make my way through Bevelle, surprised at the relief I feel at my  
  
change in circumstance.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
The boy is full of himself, cocksure and smartmouthed, just like his  
  
father. He runs forward and slashes at the fiend but his sword  
  
glances off its hardened shell, unable to pierce its armour.  
  
I shift my grip bringing my other hand up to the hilt of my sword,  
  
then focus my energy, visualising the thin edge of my blade, a  
  
sharpness that can cut through anything and everything. I am not so  
  
fast nor agile but it is of no consequence. My sword slashes an arc  
  
that cuts the very air instead of moving through it. The fiend can  
  
neither evade nor defend itself and explodes into a thousand lights  
  
that drift away.  
  
"See? Sir Auron is the best guardian that ever lived."  
  
I look back to see Wakka loudly proclaiming my supposed exploits. It  
  
is strange, disconcerting to be so highly regarded. I know it is  
  
unwarranted, but it occurs to me that we were all probably brought  
  
back into Yevon's fold in the wake of our 'success', reclaimed from  
  
our heresies in death, to maintain the beautiful illusion that Yevon  
  
created. There is no point trying to enlighten him to the truth, he  
  
will either see or not see, in time. When we reach Zanarkand will be  
  
soon enough for all of them to learn exactly what lies at the heart  
  
of Yevon.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
The fiend whirls like a dervish, crackling and hissing through the  
  
air as it launches itself directly towards Jecht. He is agile,  
  
jumping out of the way at the last moment, and bringing his sword up  
  
to slash horizontally across its eyes. It is a mistake, and a bad  
  
one.  
  
A lava-like stream of ichor erupts from the fiend's ruined eyeball,  
  
coating his sword, running down the hilt and over his hand and arm.  
  
He lets out a strangled yell as he drops to his knees. I run forward  
  
and slash at the disabled fiend, hoping to destroy it, but although  
  
my blade cuts a gouge through its underbelly it still hovers in the  
  
air, ballooning out to massive proportions as it is enraged by the  
  
insult to its flesh.  
  
Braska turns towards Jecht, raising his staff and beginning a prayer  
  
of healing. The second fiend glows a deeper, darker red as it  
  
prepares to charge towards him, and I know that he is defenceless  
  
and unable to evade its attack, so I do the only thing I can,  
  
placing myself between him and the fiend. I bring my sword up from  
  
left to right and deliver a glancing blow with the flat of the  
  
blade, diverting its course and only receive a long grazing burn of  
  
heat across my upper arm in return. It stings and burns like  
  
hellfire but unlike Jecht I manage to retain my grip on my sword.  
  
Jecht retrieves his sword and stands again, but the first fiend  
  
chooses to attack him once more. This time I am too slow to  
  
intervene, although I try, and Jecht, woozy from the last attack is  
  
not so quick to evade. This time the fiend delivers a forceful blow  
  
to his chest and he drops like a stone under the onslaught, landing  
  
flat on his back. Braska, aware of the damage that I'd suffered  
  
turned to me indecisively, but I waved him off.  
  
"See to Jecht."  
  
He nods, and turns once more, and this time my determination lends  
  
me strength. I again attack the weakest fiend and this time my blow  
  
sends it reeling to earth. One down, one to go.  
  
I turn and run back to my place beside Braska, watching for the  
  
other fiend's counter-move. This time it perceives me as the  
  
greatest threat and attacks accordingly. I do not make the same  
  
mistake Jecht did, waiting until it is almost upon me to jump  
  
sideways, turning as it passes me and bringing my sword around to  
  
slash through the rear of the creature's body. It shrieks, a high  
  
pitched hissing of gas escaping from its wound but it is already  
  
past me and all I feel is a wash of heated air as it turns and faces  
  
us once more.  
  
I don't give it time to strike again, rushing it and when it  
  
launches itself skywards I alter the angle of my sword stroke,  
  
bringing it up almost vertically at full reach. Despite its evasive  
  
manouvre I manage to do moderate damage. One more hit should be  
  
enough. Jecht is standing, although he is swaying slightly on his  
  
feet and looking quite chagrined at the course of this battle.  
  
Braska raises his staff again, but this time in the fiend's  
  
direction. I feel a blast of cold air shoot forward from his hands  
  
and cold blue crystals begin to form in the air around the fiend. It  
  
is enough. The fiend breaks apart and pyreflies emerge, faint blurs  
  
of colour that twist and drift slowly out of existence.  
  
I let my sword drop point first to the ground and lean against it,  
  
the threat over for now. Jecht however throws his own sword onto the  
  
ground in disgust.  
  
"Damn, I hate this! And I'm beginning to really hate fire."  
  
He collapses to sit cross-legged in the centre of the road, and  
  
occasionally shivers in reaction. Braska rests his palm on his  
  
shoulder. "You were just unfortunate. Things will get better, I  
  
promise."  
  
He turns to me then, and on seeing the state I am in shows some  
  
alarm as he hastens to stand in front of me. I drop my head to gaze  
  
at the ground as his hand brushes over my shoulder. My attitude that  
  
causes him to take a half step backward before beginning the prayer  
  
of healing. I know that he sees my shame and regret, but he does not  
  
guess the cause. I can say nothing, and my silence only makes this  
  
distance grow between us.  
  
Jecht watches us with uncomprehending eyes, his mind still on the  
  
battle. "You're a pretty handy guy to have around," he says to me. I  
  
look at him, surprised at the undisguised praise in his tone. I  
  
hadn't expected it from him. "I don't suppose you could...give me  
  
another lesson?"  
  
At that I'm even more surprised. I nod without speaking.  
  
"Alright! I'll kick some fiend's butt yet."  
  
Braska laughs at his strange choice of words. He smiles warmly at  
  
Jecht. "Auron is the best swordsman in Spira. And the best guardian.  
  
But you already knew that."  
  
"You're the expert, Braska." He picks his sword up out of the dust,  
  
examining the blade and slashing experimentally at the air. "Well,  
  
we ready?"  
  
Braska nods and we continue on our way along the highroad.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
End of Part 11 


	12. Chapter twelve

Part 12  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
I step back and raise my sword, holding it in a two handed grip, the blade bisecting my vision. Jecht lunges forward with a quick sideways slash, and I deflect his sword, then make a countermove, my sword arcing towards his neck. He ducks backwards and I think he is about to fall, but instead his feint is revealed as a ruse and he slashes at my upper thigh. I twist sideways bringing my own sword back down to try to avert his stroke. I am too slow, and the point of his sword connects despite my attempt at evasion.  
  
I step back, holding the palm of my hand to my leg as the cut begins to sting and my blood escapes between my fingers, staining the torn fabric of my trousers almost black. Jecht's eyes widen.  
  
"Hot damn! I mean...ahhh, I didn't mean to do that."  
  
I let out a bark of laughter. We have been sparring for almost a week now and I haven't once followed through when Jecht has been vulnerable, always drawing back and allowing him to recover before continuing. But I know that he did not have any reasonable expectation that he would ever break through my defences, so oddly enough I believe him.   
  
"Wipe your sword." I tell him and he looks down at the thin edge of red along the blade.  
  
He crouches and runs the sword along the grass, leaving a smear there when he stands. "Should I get Braska?"  
  
I shake my head. "It's fine." I lift my hand carefully. The cut is neither deep nor particularly long, and the flow of blood has already eased. I resume the pressure on it then follow Jecht back towards our campsite. Braska is sitting by the fire, raising his hand to stir the pot containing our dinner. For a moment I think he is reading but what he holds in his lap is not a book.   
  
He puts it aside as he sees me grasping my leg. "What happened?"  
  
I sit carefully, stretching the injured leg out before me. "Sir Jecht's swordsmanship has improved."   
  
Braska glances at Jecht who looks slightly abashed. "Uh, yeah...sorry about that."   
  
He shakes his head looking ruefully at his sword but Braska is already moving towards me.   
  
"Let me see. How bad is it?"  
  
"Nothing. Just a scratch." I tell him, and he frowns, taking my wrist to lift my hand. "I'm more worried about having to repair my clothing."  
  
Braska laughs, his hands moving to examine the wound and causing the bleeding to start again. I swear under my breath.  
  
"Sorry." His eyes close and his lips move almost silently as he prays. Jecht has picked up the object Braska left on the ground by the fire, and he opens it and stares down for a long time before looking up again. When Braska turns away after healing my wound Jecht hands it back to him. I see it is a small carved frame, it falls open in Braska's hands to show the likenesses within.  
  
"Is that your wife?" Jecht asks.  
  
Braska nods. "It was a present from her, a wedding gift. There was a picture of me, too, but...later I put a picture of Yuna with hers. To remind me...of them both."  
  
I find myself filled with curiousity, but try not show it. Braska holds the frame out to me hesitantly and I take it gingerly. The image is just a pencil sketch, lightly washed over to give depth to the likeness of a pretty young woman with blond hair, framing large green eyes and a straight slender nose, a pink rosebud mouth above a delicately shaped chin. The artist has captured an expression of liveliness, as though the woman was just about to laugh with delight. It is clear from the picture of Braska's daughter that it was made by another hand. Although it copies the style of the first it lacks the delicacy of line and colour and clarity of the first. But the girl is still pretty, with darker hair than her mother's and a slightly rounder face.  
  
I hand it back and Braska folds it in his lap. Jecht is quiet as we eat but afterwards he tells Braska about meeting his own wife.  
  
"I'm not even sure why I fell for her so hard. She wasn't really beautiful, but there was something about her...she was different."  
  
"Different?"  
  
"Yeah. You know, there are always girls who like blitzball. They hang around the sphere and are keen on players. If you score a goal, you know you can score a girl. Score ten goals and you can have your pick of girls...and I scored more goals than most."   
  
He gives Braska a sly look under his lashes at this revelation, then continues. "After a while they're all the same you know? But Marnie, she was just this quiet mousy little girl in the background, and...it's kind of embarrassing actually. I hit on her, asked her if she wanted to go somewhere, you know. And she said no." He laughs. "The great Jecht, refused by this shy little bit of a girl who looked like she couldn't stand up to a flea. So I asked her out to dinner with me, and she hung on my every word, it was like I was the only man who existed. So I thought, yeah okay, and asked her to go to bed with me again, and she refused, again! After a while it became a kind of a joke between us."  
  
"That's a...lovely story." Braska says diplomatically. "And then you got married?"  
  
"Only way I could find out what she was like in bed." Jecht says offhandedly, then corrects himself. "No, I mean I know it sounds like that, but I guess she just showed me that there was more to it than that. So how did you meet your wife?"  
  
Braska tells Jecht the same story he'd told me, How he'd eloped with an Al Bhed girl despite the risks, if her family had caught them before their marriage was a fact, and despite the effect on Braska's standing as a priest of Yevon. Jecht looks a little shocked at how adventurous his tale sounds.  
  
"So they would have killed you?"  
  
"I have no doubt, but by the time they found us we were already man and wife. Her brother tried. I think he would have dragged her off regardless, but she pleaded with her father until he relented. When they left she cried. I didn't know why and all I could do was hold her. Later, after we'd learned to talk to each other she told me she'd been banished, that she would never be able to go home again."   
  
He sighed. "That's why when her brother sent for her she was so happy to be going home again...she wanted to show her father the baby..."   
  
He breaks off speaking, no doubt remembering what had happened next. "I only wish I'd been with her. She was afraid for my safety, and wanted to reconcile with her family first. If I'd known..."  
  
After a pause Jecht reassures him. "You couldn't have known. But it's still hard, to get used to the idea you'll never see them again..."  
  
"Yes. It is. But by the grace of Yevon our daughter was spared. I am thankful every day for that."  
  
"Yeah, she's a sweet kid. I wish she and Tidus could meet, they're about the same age." He leans back abruptly. "Who am I kidding? It's impossible..."  
  
Braska is silent, and Jecht broods. The conversation has taken a melancholy tone and Jecht asks me a question, perhaps hoping to lighten the mood. "What about you, Auron? Is there a girl back home pining for your sorry ass?"  
  
My lips tighten. Of course not, I want to say. He and Braska are normal men whereas I am some kind of monster with no feeling for women. I think of Tymarru, who might have pined for me once, but I have no doubt she is over it by now. Jecht chose the wrong question to ask, or the wrong person to ask it of.  
  
"No." I reply and gaze determinedly into the fire, in an effort to avoid what I am sure will be a mocking gaze at my response. There is silence for a while, then Braska speaks softly.  
  
"Auron has been unlucky in love."  
  
"Yeah? Well, it's not the end of the world, I guess. Girls aren't everything, although they sure make your bed warmer at night."  
  
He laughs dismissively and that is the end of the conversation. Jecht takes the first watch of the night while Braska sleeps, and I try to.  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
I'd had a letter delivered to Wen after I found lodgings in the town, not far from Braska's residence. It was just a room in a men's boarding house, with a shared kitchen, laundry and bath. Although I had some money saved I would no longer receive a stipend from the temple and needed to save all I could towards our eventual pilgrimage.  
  
Within a week Wen visited me, perching on the wooden visitor's chair that I'd brought in from the common room and looking around my room with a curious gaze.   
  
"Nice place, Auron."  
  
I laughed. "I saw worse when I was looking for somewhere to live."   
  
At least the walls here had a fresh coat of sky blue paint, and the bathroom was kept relatively clean. I swept the floor daily and although the place was homely it was tolerably comfortable.   
  
"Does anyone else know where you are?"  
  
"No, only you and Lord Braska." I wondered at his question, it seeming directed to some end, but paid the thought little mind.  
  
"I thought to see you at the temple at least for Sunday prayers. Not a day goes by but a dozen people ask me if I know where you are and what you are doing."  
  
"I didn't think I was so popular." I tell him.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, Auron. You have more friends than just me, and I can tell you the temple is in a virtual uproar over your leaving. And Tymarru...the poor girl has shut herself up in her rooms, consumed by guilt over what has happened. When she heard that you were going to pilgrimage with a summoner, I think it was a big shock for her. To find that a man would prefer almost certain death over marriage to her is a rather unwelcome thought to any girl, don't you think?"  
  
I was surprised, for some reason I hadn't considered that my refusal might affect her personally to such a degree. I felt slightly ashamed of that; although I still blamed her for causing the situation in the first place it hadn't occurred to me that she might see things in that way.  
  
"I am sorry. But I can't..."  
  
"I know that you didn't accept the proposal at face value, but if you'd just talk to the girl..."  
  
I shook my head. "I don't think that's a good idea. In any case, even if I wanted to I couldn't change my mind."  
  
"Lord Braska is not unreasonable. If you asked him to release you from his service I'm sure he would."  
  
"I won't do that. I'm sorry. If you talk to her you can tell her...my decision to become a guardian has nothing to do with her proposal."  
  
"Are you asking me to lie on your behalf?"  
  
"It's not a lie. I would have joined Lord Braska anyway." I tell him. "But you will do and say what you think fit, as always, Kinoc."  
  
"Does our friendship mean nothing? I want you to give up this quest and come back to the temple with me."  
  
I shook my head again. Of course his friendship meant a great deal, but I felt as though I was in the grip of an unseen hand, one I could not negate. We sat silently for a while, then he stood, readying himself to depart.  
  
"I will talk to her, although Yevon knows if it will do any good. I beg you to reconsider, for my sake if not hers, or at least think about it. If you talk to her and give her a chance to explain..."   
  
I nodded, agreeing to think about it, and rose to see him out when Braska appeared in the doorway.  
  
"Auron." He greeted me, then looked at Kinoc and nodded slowly at him. "I'm sorry. I can come back later if you like."  
  
"Lord Braska." I bowed, making the sign of Yevon then introduced him. "My lord, this is Wen Kinoc, a friend of mine from the temple."  
  
Wen looked uncomfortable, something I was not used to seeing as he was usually self-assured in any situation.   
  
"We've met." Braska told me, and I realised that was the source of Wen's discomfort. He hadn't told me that he knew Braska personally.  
  
"Lord Braska. I hope you are well?"  
  
"I am...better than the last time we met."  
  
Wen bowed in response. "I was just leaving."   
  
He turned to me. "Take care, Auron. I'll visit you again next week."  
  
I nodded and saw him out. Braska sat in the chair Kinoc had recently occupied, wearing a slightly abstracted frown. I was curious about their previous meeting and Braska must have been aware of that because he explained my unasked question.  
  
"Wen Kinoc...he was the one who arrested me, you know."  
  
I was shocked, and understood then why Wen hadn't told me about their previous meeting.  
  
"It's alright, Auron. Your friend was just doing his duty as a captain of the warrior monks. He and I spent many hours debating the teachings." Braska smiled. "He is a very learned man, and a clever speaker."  
  
"He never told me. I thought..."  
  
I'd thought Wen had told me a story he had heard, not that he had been instrumental in it. He had told me he'd been stationed in Luca before coming to Bevelle temple, but I hadn't connected the facts together.  
  
"He wants you to give up your guardianship, not to continue on my pilgrimage."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"If that is what you want..."  
  
"No." I told him, with absolute determination. "I won't return to the temple."  
  
He smiled. "If you change your mind I'll let you go, you know that." He rose and put a hand on my shoulder. "But I'm very glad that you want to continue with me."  
  
XxxxxxXxxxxxX  
  
End of Part 12 


End file.
